


What Comes After

by Bellatrix_Wannabe_89



Series: WCA [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angsty mcangst angst, Episode: s08e05 The Bells, F/M, Fix-It, Generous amounts of smut in the later chapters, Just remember it’s always darkest before the dawn, Minor Podrick Payne/Sansa Stark, Past Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Rape/Non-Con warning applies to chapter 14, Slow Burn, Twitter said it was slow burn so..., post 8x05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-03-05 15:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 39
Words: 207,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18831199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellatrix_Wannabe_89/pseuds/Bellatrix_Wannabe_89
Summary: Jaime survived the Battle for Kingslanding. He survived impossible odds only by the grace of the Gods. Now he has a far more painful task ahead of him; living in an aftermath where fire and blood sits on the throne and accepting the fact that the woman he loves would rather swallow glass than grant him forgiveness or allow him to be a father to the bastard cub growing inside her...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Canon up until THAT episode afterwards it’s A/U. Maybe. Perhaps not, maybe he managed to survive. But anyway; since it does follow *drinks bottle of wine* show canon, Jaime did love Cersei, he did leave for Cersei, and there will be mentions and refrences of Twincest throughout this story.

Cersei. Cersei. Cersei.

Cersei and pain were the only thing that occupied in Jaime’s mind. He couldn’t open his eyes, there was too much pain radiating over every inch of his body nor did he have the strength too. He couldn’t move his arm, his legs, his unless stump, everything was frozen…

Maybe this was Jaime’s hell. Unmoving, cold, his mind forever focused on the hateful woman he loved until the end of time. This was his penance, he supposed, his payment for his crimes that were past counting. His breaking his oath to his king, laying with his sister, crippling the Stark boy, murdering his cousin and how many others, not being able to save his children…

Hurting Brienne.

_I earned this_ , he thinks to himself. _I will have earned every moment of my punishment._

His thoughts turned back to Cersei and he thinks of their last moments together. Her weeping in his arms and the two of them clutching one another tightly, her begging Jaime to save her, to save their child… He felt a tear stream down his face and the moment he felt the wetness on his cheek he grew confused.

The dead don’t have tears. Tears were for the living.

The dead also don’t cough but that was exactly what Jaime did next, dust and ash leaving his mouth and then, he realized suddenly, he was breathing. Slow and ragged and he felt his throat cloaked in foulness but he was breathing.

He could hear voices above him. Not the Godly voices or those of his family that he was always told he would hear after death, but mortal voices, muttered human voices followed by the sound, and feel, of rocks and rubble shifting.

He was alive?

Jaime tried to open his eyes but they were swollen shut, although, he guessed, he wouldn’t have been able to see through the rubble and dust.

The voices grew clearer, louder, and Jaime felt more rocks and rubble shift and then he felt a heavy stone he hadn’t even realized was on top of him move with a grunt.

“Is he alive?” a voice asked, and Jaime wanted to answer ‘yes’ but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. It hurt too much, plus he doubted he could have managed a single word. It took too much strength to even stay awake much less get his muscles to cooperate to be able to speak.

“Barely,” a second man answered.

“Should we just leave him?” the first voice asked his companion. “If he’s gonna die why waste a bed and a Maesters time?”

_Yes._ Jaime thought. _Leave me to die. Let me be with her, let me pay for my crimes. Let me be out of pain._

“Queen Daenerys finds out we let the Kingslayer die of his own choosing it’ll be us she burns next.”

Jaime felt himself being lifted none too gently from the ground. The movement was too much, the pain was too much and his thoughts all swirled together and Jaime fell into darkness.

Dreams overwhelmed him to the point of madness. He dreamt of Aerys. He drove his sword into his back over and over but no matter how many times the king survived and got word to light the wildfire beneath the city.

Other times when Jaime stabbed him in the back Aerys screamed, but it wasn’t his scream. It was another, high pitches and far more familiar. When the king fell to the ground and Jaime turned him over to slit his throat, the king looked at him not with the violet eyes of the Targaryens but with big blue eyes.

Briennes eyes.

“Stay,” Brienne’s voice cried out to him from the foul rotting mouth of the king. “Stay with me. Please. Stay!”

Fever and pain ravaged him while the smell of death and ash choked him. He still couldn’t open his eyes although, Jaime thought, perhaps he never would again. The Gods saw fit to took his hand maybe they thought he deserved to lose his sight as well.

He slipped back into his fever. He saw a purple skinned and dead Joffrey, a horribly bent and broken Tommen and Myrcella with blood covering her, all of then staring at the naked Kingslayer.

Then another, a babe who was just a pile of crushed and smothered blood and entrails laid in front of him.

It was dark and cold and Jaime hated it. He wanted warmth for his children, that was all. He just wanted them warm and safe.

“I’m sorry!” Jaime wept as he fell to his children’s feet. “I’m so sorry!” He clutched at Myrcellas blood soaked dress, at Joffrey and Tommons tunics. “I’ll fix it! I’ll be a father! I’ll be a GOOD father!” His children said nothing. They just turned and began to walk away from the broken man. “Don’t leave me!” he cried out. He gathered up the broken babe and held him close to his chest, his tears falling on it’s ripped and broken open skin. “Don’t leave! Stay! Please!”

“Fever still not going down?”

“Nope. Maester says if it’s not come down by tomorrow he’s a lost cause.”

Jaime felt hands on him and, for the first time, he was able to open his eyes. Barely a hint but it allowed a blurry stream of sunlight in.

So he still had his sight it seemed. Terrific. Now he could see the Stranger coming to claim him rather he died from the fever or from dragon fire or whatever way whoever was on the throne decided he would pay for his crimes.

He couldn’t move his head, it hurt far too much, but, in the corner of the slit of sight he was allowed, he could have sworn he saw a flash of pale blonde hair leave the room.

He was in Brienne’s chambers. Cersei was in front of him suddenly, naked and far more beautiful and terrible then he had ever seen her before. Brienne was there as well, staring at him as heartbroken as she was the night he left her.

Cersei wrapped her arms around Jaime and kissed him but he didn’t want his sister right now.

“She’ll see,” he protested as Cersei reached down and grabbed him between his legs. He turned away from Brienne, ashamed, as he grew hard in her hand. “I don’t want her to see. Cersei, please.”

“If he makes it through the night the Maester says he’ll be through the worst of it.”

The pain was clearer now. He could comprehend it better.

“I’d rather die of a fever then whatever the Queen has planned for her.”

“He’s too stubborn to die by fever or fire. He’ll die by the sword.”

That voice. Her voice.

“You really think the Queen will let him choose trial by combat?”

“It’s the law.”

“Yeah but a one handed feverish man who had a building fall on him isn’t exactly a man who could win a fight against a child with a tourney sword much less one of the unsullied. Who would offer to be his champion? You?”

A beat.

“My days of protecting the Kingslayer are over.”

Jaime was back in the Winterfell gates the same night he left. Only it wasn’t just him and Brienne. Locke was there, and the men who had dragged Brienne away the night he lost his hand had Brienne in their grasp,  subduing her as easily as one could subdue a child.

“You’re a liar, Kingslayer,” Locke told Jaime. “There are no sapphires on Tarth.”

“Let her go!” Jaime shouted at the men as one of them grabbed her breast and made her cry out in pain. “I said let her go!”

“Tarth isn’t called the sapphire isle because of gemstones,” he told the struggling man. “It’s called that for the blue of her eyes.”

Locke walked away then, towards a group of nameless men who were pulling off Briennes clothes and holding her down, bruising her soft skin as they groped and beat  her while those ear piercing heart wrenching screams and cries that tore the lion in half ripped past her lips.

Brienne BEGGED Jaime to help her but all he could do was stand there and stare one handed and helpless as Locke climbed in between her legs.

“Get away from her!” Jaime yelled, his pleas drowned out by her screams of pain as Locke forced himself inside her. “Stop it! STOP HURTING HER!”

He ignored Jaime. They all did. The Kingslayer watched as Locke raped Brienne, followed by another, and another and another, all of them taking her every which way.

The whole while she was looking to Jaime to protect her, to defend her, to save her and he could do nothing but stare at her from the same spot where he left her.

After the last man spent himself inside her Locke grabbed the knife used to cut off Jaime’s hand and without so much as a warning he slit Brienne's throat and the one handed knight watched as a thousand blood soaked sapphires poured out of the wound and drowned her.

Jaime awoke then.

His eyes flew open as he choked back a scream. It was early, the sun had just started to rise above the horizon but it was still enough light to allow him to recognize the bare room as the servants quarter of the Red Keep.

His whole body ached and his head pounded so bad he thought he might pass out again but Jaime forced himself to stay awake; he had enough sleep to last him a lifetime.

“Water,” he spoke, a harsh whisper that pained his throat that he could barely hear himself. “Water… please.”

Jaime looked at the door and saw the short cropped hair of one of the unsullied through the hole at the top of the door. Reaching blindly at the desk beside him, he was in too much pain to turn his head go look and see something he could grab, he picked up something and threw it at the door, wincing at the loud crashing sound it made.

The next moment he heard the locks untumble and then not one but two unsullied burst in, spears at the ready.

“Water,” Jaime croaked out again. “Please…”

The two soldiers conversed in Valyrian and one of the guards left leaving the other with his spear pointed at Jaime. He wanted to ask how much of a threat could a one handed man brimming with fever could be but he knew if he didn’t want that spear chucked through his heart he would hold his tongue.

Minutes later the guard who had left rejoined his partner along with a maester who, the knight noticed, had a pitcher and a glass with him.

He was an older man with kind and gentle grey eyes, his hair brittle and grey but well kept.

“Please… water,” he begged.

“Drink it slow,” the maester warned, filling the glass and handing it to Jaime.

The water tasted stale, like it had been sitting out for a day, and lukewarm to boot but as it washed away the dust and ash from his throat and wet his dry cracked lips, Jaime knew nothing had ever tasted as sweet. When he was done the maester took the glass and pitcher away and set it on the bedside table.

“How do you feel?” the maester asked, putting the back of his head to Jaime’s forehead.

“Like I’ve been stabbed,” he answered. “And like a building collapsed on top of me.”

The maester managed a soft smile before he pulled his hand away. “You seem to have your wits about you, that’s a good sign. Your fever also appears to have broken.” He pulled down the covered and then pulled back a set of bandages from his side and Jaime didn’t have the strength not to cry out when he lightly touched the red raw skin over the sutured holes. “Apologies, My Lord. But it seems like the infection has cleared up nicely as well.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Jaime groaned as he replaced the dressing with fresh bandages. He waited until the maester was done before he spoke again, the words almost sticking in his throat but he had to know. If Jaime survived the collapse then there was a chance…  “My sister?”

He knew the answer just by the sad pitying look in his kind grey eyes. But before he could speak there was a familiar voice, cold and angry.

“She’s dead.”

Jaime and the maester looked towards the door where Greyworm stood, glaring at the man on the bed. “She was crushed between two pieces of rubble. There was no body left to recover.”

Jaime swallowed hard as he felt tears pricks at his emerald eyes, watching as Greyworm approached him and threw a bundle of clothes at him. “Get dressed,” he commanded the knight. “Your trial begins soon.”

“With respect to Her Grace, he needs rest,” the maester protested gently. “He just woke-.”

“Our Queen said when he awoke he’s to stand trial,” Greyworm snapped at the man. “He’s awake, he stands trial.”

“Greyworm-.”

“Get dressed,” the unsullied barked at Jaime. “Now!”

Without another word he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Jaime closed his eyes against the onset of tears not for his impending death but the news of his sister. Cersei, who he would have died for, who he had loved for his whole life, who he gave up everything for, was gone.

Killed not by an enemy and going down fighting but by a falling roof, weeping and clinging to Jaime. How was that fair?

To anyone?

“Well.” Jaime cringed at the tears in his voice. “At least I’m going to die without an infection…”

The Maester gave him a soft apologetic smile and put a hand on his shoulder before he stood up and left the room to give him some semblance of privacy, even if the unsullied stayed behind, their spears pointed at him, as if he could attack an insect much less two unsullied.

He stood, slowly, wincing at every step and every movement. Everything hurt, more than he thought a body could hurt. The pain in his arm when his hand was lobbed off was nothing compared to the pain exuding over every inch of his body at this moment.

It took him a good few minutes to dress himself, grey drab commoners clothes, and only then did Jaime finally realized he was missing something. “My hand?”

The unsullied said nothing, just walked over and took him by the arms and led him none too gently or kindly from his chambers, every step torturous and painful.

Much of the Red Keep was destroyed and what wasn’t smelled of death and ash. How would they ever be able to rebuild?

They didn’t take him to the throne room, which made sense seeing how it was destroyed but rather the council room in the tower of the hand. The unsullied brought Jaime in without so much as a knock and the knight was almost taken aback by the changes to the room.

The long table had been cleared away, as were the books, writing utensils, and other bits and bobbles until it was as empty as the throne room had been, only considerably smaller. Daenerys sat in the chair raised on a wooden platform in the front of the room. The chair nothing spectacular, certainly not a throne made of the swords of Aegon’s enemies, but it did its job.

Daenerys was cold. Colder than usual, her eyes harsh and unkind and cruel and beautiful and terrible, with Grey Worm on one side of her and his guilt racked brother in the other. But that’s not who Jaime was looking at. Truth be told the Dragon Queen, her unsullied commander, her hand… Jaime’s eyes looked past them all and they instead fell on _her_.

Even without the absurdly tall height Brienne was easy to spot with her slicked back pale blonde hair and Jaime found her almost at once. She was stiff and rigid and was looking dead ahead at Daenerys, her blue eyes hard and uncaring, even more so then they had been when she was first charged with taking him to Kingslanding.

Jaime knew she would not come to his defense this time. Nor would he deserve it if she had.

The armor he had made her was gone. Replaced  by basic Northern armor and he noticed the hilt of her sword seemed in regulation with the Northern footsoldier, not the gold and rubies of Oathkeeper.

“Kingslayer.”

Jaime’s attention turned back to the Dragon Queen. Even her voice sounded different; cold and angry and terrifying.

She was going to kill him.

“You stand accused of attempting to help the usurper Cersei Lannister escape. Do you deny it?”

Jaime pursed his lips for a moment before he spoke . “No.”

“No ‘Your Grace’,” Greyworm snapped at the one handed man.

“No, _Your Grace_ ,” Jaime muttered, glaring at the man beside the throne for a moment.

“You stand accused of treason against your Queen, Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen and conspiring with the enemy. Do you deny it?”

_I never bowed to you so there’s no treason you murderer,_ he thought bitterly but he was in too much pain to argue so instead he simply said, “no, Your Grace.”

“You stand accused of murdering Ned Stark’s house guard I’m the streets. Do you deny it?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“You stand accused of murdering your king, Aerys Targaryen the second, and in doing so broke your sacred vow as kingsguard. Do you deny it?”

That was too much.

“I was pardoned for that crime,” Jaime argued.

“By a usurper with no claim to the throne,” Daenerys bit back sharply. “Do. You. Deny. Your. Crime, Kingslayer.”

_You’re going to die anyway, what does it matter if you confess?_ a voice inside told him but he refused to listen. He had done that to save the city, to save innocents.

To save Cersei.

Ignoring the blinding pain in his body and the pounding in his head, Jaime threw a glare at the Dragon Queen. “I do.”

There was mutterings throughout the gallery. He saw her eyes come alive with anger, flame and hatred and Jaime shuddered.

“I am a fair woman and will give you one more chance to confess, Kingslayer. In this trial, in the sight of Gods and Man-.”

Jaime knew it was death but he couldn’t help himself. He snickered. “A trial? This is a farce.”

“This is a trial for you to answer for your crimes.”

“This is a way for you to look like you care about justice. Although why you would care now after burning how many thousands of innocents…”

“Hold your tongue, Kingslayer!” Greyworm barked, his eyes hard and uncaring, just as cruel and cold as his Queen.

“But I thought this was a trial?” Jaime replied with a smugness that reminded him of his golden lion days. “Am I not allowed to defend myself during my own trial?”

Jaime shook his head. He knew he was going to die, he knew he would not leave this room alive, but he would be damned if he died by this butchers word.

_He’s too stubborn to die by fever or fire. He’ll die by the sword._

“Kingslayer, I am warning you-!”

“Yes, yes you’re warning me. Of what? Of speaking in defense of myself? At my own ‘trial’?” He shook his head. “I won’t play a part in this farce, you’ll not get that satisfaction from me. I demand a trial by combat.”

There were low mutterings throughout the chambers. He turned and his eyes fell on the tall knight who refused to look his way but he would not turn away.

He could hear the smugness in the Queens voice when she told her she accepted his offer but he did not turn away. Brienne’s face was hard, stoic, uncaring. Jaime might as well have inquired about the weather for all she seemed to care.

_My days of protecting the Kingslayer are over._

Jaime didn’t turn away when Greyworm volunteered to be Daenerys’ champion. He watched her face, the torchlight casting shadows but she was unmoving, uncaring.

Jaime Lannister was going to die, and Brienne of Tarth did not care; not that he had expected nor wanted her too. But that fact hit him harder than he thought it would...

And then someone tossed a half dull sword at his feet, and the sound of the metal clanging against the floor seemed to draw her out of a dream, and fear flickered in her eyes and her lips parted and trembled.

“Your Grace, wait!”

That voice. That deep high born voice Jaime heard in his dreams and nightmares, in the throws of passion and the heat of anger, was speaking up in defense of him again.

Brienne moved through the crowd quickly and awkwardly and stood not beside the man she loved but in front of him. “The Kingslayer is ill. You cannot allow him to fight when he’s barely started his recovery.”

Kingslayer. Brienne called him Kingslayer.

Jaime felt wetness start to pool in his eyes but he blinked his tears away. He didn’t deserve the luxury of being able to weep at her words.

“He was the one who choose a trial by combat,” Daenerys reminded her harshly.

“He isn’t thinking straight, he’s too weak to fight. This is an injustice, you know it is. You cannot allow this to happen.”

“I can and I will. Now step aside.”

“Your Grace-.”

“Step aside NOW, Lady Brienne. Last warning.”

_She’s a Ser_ Jaime thought furiously. He expected Brienne to bow out, never curtsy, to go back to her spot beside Sansa who to her credit never flinched when her sworn sword put herself in the way of dragon fire.

The maester who had tended Jaime, however, looked positively terrified at what was transpiring.

Brienne drew herself up to her fullest height, her big blue eyes burning with determination. “If you choose to go through with this, then I volunteer to be his champion.”

Jaime’s eyes grew wide and his mouth went dry.  No. No no no no no, she couldn’t… He never wanted her to die for him.

“No…” Jaime breathed, barely loud enough for her to hear. “Brienne-.”

“If you are not willing to set aside his trial for another day,” Brienne spoke sharply, cutting him off. “If you insist he go through trial by combat right this second then I will fight as his champion. He has that right, same as you.”

The fury in the queens eyes were unmatched to anything Jaime had ever seen. Her hand curled into a fist and her face trembled in anger.

“Fine,” Daenerys snarled. “You will be his champion.” Her eyes went over to Greyworm who just have her a curt nod, confirming he still wanted to fight for his queen, even against a warrior the unsullied commander had come to respect.

“Brienne, please,” Jaime begged, reaching out for her hand but she turned and strode past him without so much as giving him a passing glance.

Jaime swallowed hard as he watched her walk over to Sansa and he saw the Wolf girl speak low and soft, worry and fear in her Tully eyes, trying to talk her out of this madness. The maester with the kind eyes hurried over to Brienne as well, speaking too low for Jaime to hear and, the Kingslayer was sure he was seeing things that weren't there, swore that he saw the maester eyes flicker down to Brienne’s stomach for half a second before they were on her face again.

After a moment, and a rare embrace between Sansa and Brienne and, shockingly, the maester and the towheaded knight, Brienne drew her sword and made her way back to the center of the hall. Greyworm and Daenerys were speaking in Valerian, words Jaime had no idea what they saying but, he noticed, Brienne was listening rather intently as if she understood the foreign language.

The two unsullied guards who brought him into the makeshift throne room grabbed Jaime by the arms and yanked him back from the frey. He swallowed hard as he watched Greyworm dawn his helmet and grabbed his spear before he made his way to the center of the room and stood face to face Brienne, standing half a foot shorter than the knight. She gripped her sword and took a deep breath before she bowed to her opponent. Some of those in the gallery snickered at the Lady knight but all her gesture did was make Jaime want to weep.

She was honorable even to the man who may kill her.

Greyworm looked back at his Queen who just gave him a curt nod before he turned back to the still bowing knight. The unsullied didn’t return the bow but he did place his fist over his heart.

“Valar Morghulis,” the freedman told her.

Brienne rose from her bow and placed a hand over her heart as well. “Valar Dohaeris.”

The two warriors looked one another in the eyes for a moment before they raised their weapon, and the dance began.

 

Please Review :-)

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne clutched at the wooden shaft stuck in her armor, just half an inch away from piercing her stomach, a look in her eyes that Jaime had never seen before.  
> He had seen fear overwhelm her twice before; when they were with Locke and the Bloody Murmers and when they fought the dead side by side but this went far deeper than regular terror. It was an otherworldly almost ancient fear that seemed to take hold of her.  
> One that Jaime recognized when Cersei…  
> No. No, that wasn’t possible, she wouldn’t have risked her life if...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So holy shit, this blew up lol. I really didn’t think it was gonna get this much love but I’m really glad you all loved this and I hope I can live up to your expectations.

Jaime flinched at the sound of spear and sword crashing together.

Greyworm moved fast, pulling away from her block and swinging the razor sharp end of the spear at her but Brienne blocked his swing, again and again until they locked weapons and with a loud yell that Jaime would have known anywhere, she pushed him back with her parry and nearly made the Unsullied stumble. 

Brienne swung her sword at him once, twice; forceful, powerful but Greyworm backed away from her swings almost effortlessly as if he was dancing rather than fighting, his feet never breaking that perfect formation. He came back swinging his spear in such a flurry that it was a silver and brown blur and Brienne barely had enough time to block the spear head before he was swinging it another direction, once or twice scraping it across her armor.

Greyworm was faster than the knight, but Brienne was stronger and adapted as best she could to the foreign style, concentrating on her speed rather than taking her time to put her muscles and power behind her swings.

Power vs speed. The perfect Essoian soldier vs the perfect Westerosi knight. That is what this would come down too.

Back and forth, back and forth the two warriors danced; his graceful and hers powerful. He would swing his spear too fast for Jaime to even see and Brienne would block as best she could. He would move in too close or the two would parry and she would push back, hard and strong, swinging her sword down and at him, moving into him and forcing him to dance backwards until he got far enough out of her reach where he could use his spear again.

Greyworm spun his spear up and around and whipped it down to what would have been a clean slice through her throat, but Brienne managed to catch the head of it on her blade and yanked upwards on it as hard as she could, nearly jerking the shaft out of his hands and forcing him to come in closer where his weapon of choice would be no use. 

She untangled her sword and swung it, hard, catching him in the side of his studded boiled leather armor. But, Jaime noticed, she yanked her sword forward rather than follow through so rather than cutting the commander in half it merely left a deep cut in his side.

Painful, but non-lethal.

Greyworm stumbled away from her, clutching his bleeding side, giving her a moment of reprieve. Jaime swallowed hard when his eyes danced between their faces. The knights big blue eyes were strong and determined but the unsullied commanders narrowed brown ones were full of hate and fury and anger. 

They were full of fire and blood.

And Jaime knew hate and fire and blood beat out all else…

Brienne was highborn, a noble woman with pale blonde hair and paler skin and spoke with such a highborn accent that it rivaled the great houses. She was a knight dressed in Northern armor and fought with a sword and used power and strength rather than speed and etiquette footwork.

She was everything Greyworm hated about Westeros. It hadn’t mattered if she fought alongside him once, that the two had spent hours talking battle plans, that he respected her as a fighter once. She was Westerosi to her core and worst of all, she was defending the man who tried to save the woman who put Missandei back in chains, who drove him and his Queen to crimes they never wanted to do...

Greyworm snarled at the knight and let out a loud, almost painful roar before he lept at her, swinging and thrusting his spear like a madman fast, far too fast for Brienne to keep up with. The spearhead sang with each scrape of her armor, sparks flying off the Northern metal, until finally the unsullied hit the perfect note and found a weak spot between the left shoulder plates, piercing her armor and mail and flesh.

Brienne screamed as Greyworm drove the spear further into her, twisting as he did and Jaime choked back tears and a scream of his own as the sounds from his nightmare filled the room. Sansa covered her mouth with her hands and twisted away from the scene and the kindly maester of all  people wrapped his arms around the tall red headed pup, tears shining in his grey eyes.

Who in the seven Hells was he?

Jaime’s eyes whipped towards the silver hair queen and he saw, with anger filling his heart, her smirking at the bloodshed before her, smiling at Brienne's pain.

If Brienne died for him Jaime wouldn’t die quiet and meekly. He would go fighting that silver haired bitch and her commander as well and if he could take one of them down with him, that would be enough.

Greyworm yanked his spear out and went to drive it into her again, aiming for her stomach this time and the spearhead slammed into her breast plate. The spear head was sharp enough to cut the metal armor and he had used enough force that it had managed to create a gap big enough that if he thrust there again, with the precision that the unsullied spearmen were known for, she was dead. 

And so was Jaime 

Brienne clutched at the wooden shaft stuck in her armor, just half an inch away from piercing her stomach, a look in her eyes that Jaime had never seen before.

He had seen fear overwhelm her twice before; when they were with Locke and the Bloody Murmers and when they fought the dead side by side but this went far deeper than regular terror. It was an otherworldly almost ancient fear that seemed to take hold of her.

One that Jaime recognized when Cersei…

No. No, that wasn’t possible, she wouldn’t have risked her life if...

Greyworm drew his spear back and went to thrust again, in the same spot where he knew he had created a kink in her armor. Brienne screamed again but rather than one of pain it was with a new resolve, a new purpose and she dodged the spear and swung her sword down, HARD, cutting the wooden spear in two. 

Daenerys shouted from the throne at Greyworm in Valerian and Jaime couldn’t help the knowing smirk when he witnessed what came after. The unsullied went to turn his back on Brienne in order to catch a new spear being tossed at him, knowing the knight was too honorable to stab a man in the back even if it meant her own death.

But before Greyworm had time to even turn his head Brienne was in front of him, holding her sword aloft. Daenerys yelled something at him in Valerian again and again Brienne was able to match him step for step, blocking his ability to retrieve a new spear.

_Brienne speaks Valyrian,_ Jaime realized with a smug look towards the Queen. Daenerys must have understood what was happening as well because her eyes came alive with fire and hate and anger and when he saw the way the Queen was looking at the Evenstars daughter, Jaime feared for Briennes life far more than he had even just moments ago when Greyworms spear was halfway through her armor.

Greyworm looked down at the broken spear in his hand. He knew in order to hurt her he would have to move in close and if he moved in close she would overpower him and cut him down…

But he had to try for his Queen.

He ran at Brienne, leaping into the air even taller than the lady knight, his hand clutching the broken spear and preparered to drive it down into her vulnerable unprotected throat but with a loud ear shattering cry Brienne swung her sword at the spear again hitting the shaft and then ducked down and swung it downwards. slicing his leg from ankle to the top of his calf. But rather than immediately following through she let him fall to the ground and clutch at the deep cut in his leg, another non fatal but highly painful wound 

_ She’s fighting the same way she fought when she fought with me, _ Jaime realized as his jaw slacked and his emerald eyes went wide.  _ She’s trying not to kill him _ …

Greyworm groaned and clutched at his leg and Brienne was there with her sword aimed directly at him. Daenerys stood up from her throne, her lip trembling and tears dancing in her eyes.

The blonde knight took several deep shuddering breaths. Sweat and blood was dripping off her as she looked down at him and then swallowed hard. 

“Tell him to throw down his spear,” Brienne said without looking up at the Dragon Queen, “and yield.”

There was mutterings and murmurs throughout the gallery. It wasn’t unheard of to yield during a trial by combat but it was few and far between, usually by the losing man who was too tired to fight anymore. It certainly wasn’t encouraged by the one winning who had her opponents.

Only the ones on trial and bringing the charges could yield. Champions could not, even if they wanted too. Often during fights the losing champion would look to the one they volunteered to fight for right before the killing blow, pleading for a yield on their behalf that would never come.

Greyworm gritted his teeth and clutched at the broken spear. He went to swing it at Brienne but she didn’t even bother with the sword and rather just kicked his hand, hard, a sickening crunch mixed with his howls of pain echoing in the throne room as his hand bent backwards.

“I said...” Brienne growled, her own hands beginning to shake for what might be the inevitable conclusion. “YIELD!”

When Daenerys made no move Brienne let out a furious yell and grabbed Greyworm by the breastplate and hoisted him to his feet, ignoring the cries of pain that came from standing on his wounded leg and put her sword to his throat. 

“I don’t want to kill for him, and he shouldn’t die for him either! Don’t let him die for the Kingslayer!” she begged Daenerys, that word like a twisting dagger in Jaime’s heart. “Yield!”

Greyworm shook his head, a ferocious in his eyes. He had offered to die for his Queen and he knew, they both did, if he lost, she would cross that threshold again. That threshold that allowed her to lay Kingslanding to waste, she could rain down on Jaime and Brienne. 

The two blondes locked eyes, the knights pleading and the queens hatred and fury and fear. No one spoke, no one even breathed and Brienne began to press down, tiny droplets of blood appearing on his skin. 

Daenerys’ pained whisper of, “I yield,” might as well have been a scream. 

Brienne cried out as she took the sword away from Greyworms throat, letting her sword fall to the ground and nearly collapsed into the ground. The Maester and Sansa rushed towards her but Brienne just shook her head and pointed to the bleeding man in front of her who was being helped to his feet by fellow unsullied. “Help him.”

“She has her own healers, you need to be checked out,” Jaime heard him whisper to Brienne as he handed her sword off to Sansa.

“Maester Waldon, just help him, please,” Brienne begged almost frantically. 

It was then, Jaime realized, that along with the typical heavy Maester chain he had another, much smaller, chain around his neck. 

It had azure steel links with a large blue star-bust crystal that had a thousand different shades of blue dancing in its flesh wherever the light hit it. It was as breathtaking and as beautiful as a night sky and not easily forgotten or replicated. 

Selwyn Tarth and his wife came all the way from Tarth to pay their respects when Jaime’s mother died. There was no reason too, truly. The Lannister’s weren’t his liege lord, Tarth was sworn to House Baratheon, they were a powerful large house but knew Tywin would never have marry one of his children to them, and it was a long hard road from Tarth to the Westerlands but the Evenstar made it all the same, solely to pay his respects for no other reason then compassion and decency.

Selwyn had even commissioned a small handsome and elegant gold-colored marble lion and lioness statue with ruby eyes, marble being the real export on the tiny island, for the Lannister twins for no other reason then he wanted to give a small comfort to two young children who just lost their mother.

It was a gift that Jaime and Cersei held onto for years and years until they moved from Casterly Rock to Kingslanding.

Then several years later when news reached Tywin of the death of Selwyns son Galladon, the Lord of the Rock took the twelve year old Jaime and Cersei to Tarth to pay their respects as a way to repay the kindness that Selwyn had done for them years earlier.

When he, Cersei and his father entered Evenfall Hall for the viewing of the young lords body; Cersei pointed out a middle aged Maester with kind grey eyes hugging a four year old girl with pale blonde hair who was fighting a losing battle against her tears to their father.

“Why is he wearing that crystal?” the young lioness asked, her voice loud enough for Tywin to hear but still low enough as to not draw too much attention to herself.

“The Maester who serves the Evenstar wears it in addition to his chain,” he explained to the twins. “They say it’s as old as the island itself.”

Jaime didn’t give the Tarth Maester or his crystal, nor the small mourning girl he was comforting, another thought.

But now, he realized as he stared at the kindly man who had looked so concerned for Brienne during the trial and who had hugged the Lady Knight before it began, it was all he could think about.

Why would Brienne have her maester here in Kingslanding? More importantly why would he have helped Jaime much less regard him with a kindness that he didn’t deserve?

“I’ll assist him after I check you out, My Lady,” Jaime heard Maester Waldon protest. “I promise.”

Brienne looked like she was seconds away from passing out. Her already pale face had gone ashen white and her legs were shaking and threatening to drop out from under her. 

“I-... I’m fine.” She was panting, gasping for breath that she couldn’t seem to catch. “I promise, help… help Grey-...”

Jaime knew what was going to happen before it did. Her blue eyes rolled to the back of her head revealing nothing but white, her legs fell out from under her and she began to fall forward.

“Someone help her!” shouted Jaime to the Maester, to Sansa to anyone who would hear him and care enough to act. Waldon and Sansa both lurched to catch the tall knight but rather than try, and fail, to hold up the absurdly tall woman they rather just grabbed her and jerked her backwards, making her slam her knee on the floor and fall on her back rather than her face.

Jaime took a frantic step toward the tall blonde but as soon as he did two unsullied grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him around to face the Dragon Queen who was no longer bothering to hide behind a mask and rather was letting all of her seething rage be known.

“Let me go, I won the trial!” Jaime yelled at the Queen, turning his head around so he could see what was happening with his champion. Waldon and Sansa both were falling over themselves to get her armor off Brienne who was growing paler by the second.

“You’re not my prisoner, Kingslayer, you’re my guest,” Daenerys bit back, bitter poison soaking her words. She turned her attention to the unsullied guards holding onto him. “Show my  _ guest _ back to his room.”

As Jaime was dragged from the throne room he kept his eyes on Brienne who had her to stir. The last thing he saw before the doors shut in front of him, was Sansa’s placing a gentle hand on Brienne’s stomach.

 

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	3. Chapter 3

The lion cub was as beautiful as anything Brienne had ever seen before. She was so small and helpless, barely able to stand.

She was covered in soft clean fur. She wasn’t a golden lion, she was pure white with sapphires for eyes and a black sunburst marking on the back of its neck. Everything about her was perfect.

“Hello, my little love,” Brienne breathed as she took the cub in her arms, smiling when it began to purr as loud as anything had a right to. The cub nuzzled the knight and ‘mewed’ softly and almost instinctively Brienne knew what it wanted.

She unlaced her shirt and almost at once the cub began to suckle at her breast, it’s small paws gently kneading at her skin. Brienne ran her long fingers through its soft white fur and smiled before she planted a soft endearing kiss on the top of its head.

Then Locke was there.

And he took the cub from her.

He plucked it from her breast and held it up by the scruff of its neck, sneering at the animal that still had Brienne’s milk dripping from its lips. The knight scrambled to her feet, an overwhelming senseless fear consuming every part of her as she watched the man smirk at the crying helpless cub. Men were holding her back. She couldn’t move, couldn’t fight, couldn’t save the lion babe...

“Give her back to me!” Brienne cried, frantic, hopeless,  desperate. “Give her back!”

She looked around the clearing, crying out for anyone to save her cub. Then she saw him. Jaime. His arms wrapped around Cersei and pressed tight against her twin, kissing her deeply. His cock rock hard and pressing against his twins cunt.

“Help her, Jaime!” she cried. He ignored her and instead buried himself deep inside his sister, groaning loudly. Brienne sobbed and began screaming at him but her words were nothing but a whisper to him. “Jaime, please! Please save her! Jaime! JAIME, SAVE HER _PLEASE_!!!”

“He can’t.”

Brienne whipped back around and saw that Locke no longer held the cub but Daenerys did instead. Greyworm stood to the side of her, his spear sharpened so fine that the edge was lost in the faint light. The Dragon Queen and her commander were cold, cruel, unloving.

“Give her back,” Brienne begged them both, the cubs pitiful heartbreaking mewing and cries breaking her heart, even more so then it’s feeble attempts to get back to Brienne. “Please… please give her back, I’ll do whatever you want, just give her back to me.”

Daenerys looked up at the knight cold, stoic, unfeeling. “No.”

Brienne looked towards Jaime again, tears streaming down her face.

“Jaime...” she begged him through her sobs one last time, desperate for the man she had once loved to hear her. “Please, Jaime… Jaime, please save her…”

She might as well have been a shadow on the wall. Brienne was helpless as she watched Greyworm take his spear and plunge it into the cubs soft flesh.

—-

Brienne gasped as she flew up in bed, choking back a scream and reaching out for the cub from her nightmares. A cold sweat drenched her and a stabbing persistent pain in her shoulder nearly made her pass out again.

“My Lady, you’re fine. You’re alright, it was only a nightmare.”

The room slowly came into focus and the vision of the Unsullied taking the life from the lion cub vanished from her mindseye. Brienne took a moment to get her mind caught up to the present.

Sansa was there, sitting in a chair against the wall of her small chambers and Waldon was standing beside the blonde knight. Her left arm was in a sling and Brienne felt the constraints of the thick white bandages on her shoulder underneath a loose fitting sleep shirt, and her whole body felt sore and tired, like she was moving through thick water.

Brienne moved her hands to her stomach, swallowing hard when she felt the slight swell starting to replacing her hard muscles.

“Is she alright?” Brienne asked her Maester, almost not recognizing the softness in her tone. She didn’t speak gently that often, hardly ever, it sounded odd coming from the Lady knight. Yet when it came to this, when it came to the baby growing inside her, she couldn’t bring herself to raise her voice above a soft whisper.

 _“_ You have a man’s strength in your arms, but your heart is as soft as any maid's,” her master of arms told her once. Brienne knew his words to be true but she never knew just _how_ true it was until recently.

The under the weather feeling she had been going though she chalked up to a Southern body in a Northern winter. Her tunic which was normally loose-fitting around her breasts had began to clench uncomfortably tight in her chest area but she decided that she had just been eating far too much partridge at dinner. The heightened sense of smell had been difficult to explain away but Brienne didn’t linger too much on that, not when there were soldiers to train and the rebuilding of Winterfell to focus on and heartbreak to get over.

Then she realized she missed her moons blood and all the pieces began to fall together. After she had the Winterfell maester confirm it and Brienne spent the rest of the night in a cross between being stunned at the news she never thought she would ever hear and sobbing at her own stupidity, at Jaime’s abandonment, at the shame and dishonor of growing a bastard in her  belly.

The Kingslayers bastard at that, a man who choose his own sister over Brienne. How would she tell Sansa that she could no longer be her sworn sword? How would she tell her father she was pregnant because she willingly laid with a man outside of marriage?

There were a great many things that Lord Selwyn Tarth allowed his daughter to do that other lords raised a brow at. Having his Master at Arms train her, letting her leave home to fight for Renly Baratheon, allow her to cut her hair violently short and wear armor and mail rather than silk dresses and skirts.

He had accepted the jeers and mocking in stride but this? A Lannister bastard in his daughters belly? Brienne knew that was where he would draw the line when it came to acceptance and open mindedness.

But then a strange thing happened… After she had no more tears left to cry, a feeling she never thought she would feel again after Jaime left began to sliver through her dark thoughts.

Happiness. And excitement, and even a touch of joy.

Brienne was pregnant. She was going to have a child, she was going to be somebody's mother. Something she had always wanted but as the years passed by and betrothal after betrothal fell though she knew it would never happen for her.

Then Jaime Lannister had to show up at her door one night, drunk and complaining about the heat…

Yes it would be a bastard, a Snow or Storm depending on if it were born in the north or back on Tarth, but it was still Brienne's child. It would be hers, she would love it and it would love her in return… Plus it wasn’t as if she had been with half a hundred men and didn’t know who the father was, nor had it been a byproduct of one regretful night of passion and it certainly wasn’t born from a man putting his seed in her by force.

Jaime promised to stay by her side. They had a relationship, she had loved him and, perhaps foolishly on her part, thought he loved her in return. Sometimes when she caught him looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered in this world she allowed herself to imagine a ring on her finger and a crimson lion cloak around her shoulders.

What shame was there in a baby conceived from what she thought was love?

The next day she told Sansa. Rather that appear disappointed or angry or even stunned, knowing that wouldn’t help matters, she gifted Brienne with a rare smile.

“I’m happy for you, Brienne. Truly.”

Brienne breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t been chastised or even judged. “Thank you, My Lady.”

Then her smile fell, and Brienne saw the cogs in her clever mind working and turning.

“You can’t name Ser Jaime as the father though,” Sansa told her rather stoically.

The relief washed from her face and confusion replaced it. “My Lady, I know you hate what he did to your father-.”

“And to you.”

She swallowed hard. “And to me. But I won’t lie to my child,  I won’t let it be falsely claimed by another man.”

“You have to, Brienne.”

“My Lady, I-.”

“If Cersei wins,” Sansa interrupted. “Or even if she merely lives through the war, and she finds out her brother got another woman pregnant, she will not rest until your child’s head sits atop the city gates and yours rests alongside it. It was already a dangerous game you two were playing, knowing she could receive word of what was happening at any moment. If you say it was some random foot soldier or even ask your squire to play along, she won’t care. But if you say the father is Ser Jaime, Cersei will hunt you down and kill you both.”

An ancient fear and an anger that stretched back to before the first men seethed within her. Brienne placed a hand on her stomach, still hard with well formed muscles not yet soft and swollen, but already she wanted to protect the tiny life inside from anyone who would harm it.

“Cersei will not have my child,” Brienne snarled dangerously, her fierceness even taking Sansa aback some.

_Nor would Jaime allow her to._

He would protect the baby. She knew he would, she didn’t care that he choose Cersei over her, that his love for Cersei was greater than the love he had for Brienne.

Their child wasn’t Brienne, she was an innocent. Even if the two of them were no longer together she knows Jaime would protect his child from the Queens madness and jealousy.

…

Right?

After promising Sansa she would consider spreading a lie that it was some random foot soldier rather than the Kingslayer, she REFUSED to entertain the idea of asking Pod to lie much less say she had gotten pregnant by her squire of all people, she headed back to her chambers and quickly penned a letter to the maester of Tarth.

Her mother had not had easy pregnancies, nor deliveries. Brienne and her siblings were close to death so many times during the pregnancy it got to the point when Selwyn heard of the last pregnancy, especially after discovering she was with twins, he looked at it as a curse rather than a blessing, knowing how close his wife came to losing herself and their children during their delivery and the months leading up to it.

Maester Waldon has been the one who saved them. He made special brews and teas when her mother felt faint, or when some other sickness would inevitably take hold he was there to heal her and save the lives of the babes growing inside the Evenstars wife.

Then on the night of the actual deliveries there was no smiles and soft spoken words, there was blood and screams and hurried frantic shouting while Stranger lurked nearby for both mother and babe. Waldon worked tirelessly, furiously, moving and flickering back and forth between the dying mother and dying infant, using all of his knowledge to save them.

He did this all three pregnancies and all five Tarths had lived thanks to him. Brienne knew if there was any chance of her and her child surviving the ordeal of pregnancy and delivery she would need her old Maester here with her.

She begged him to come to Winterfell, to lie to her father and say he had been summoned regarding the War of the Dead. Brienne would break the news to the Evenstar eventually but right then all she cared about was getting Waldon to her and the child growing inside her.

Then Sansa has received a raven, telling them what happened at Kingslanding along with a demand that the lady wolf venture south and bend the knee. It wasn’t explicit but the threat was clear; Sansa rides south or fire and blood will come to the north.

So, a day after Waldon arrived at Winterfell (asking no questions about how Brienne got into this situation or passing any judgement); him, Sansa, Brienne and Pod all made the journey south where smoke and fire and blood and ash greeted them along with a cold unforgiving queen who would hear no more about northern independence and ‘invited’ Sansa to stay in the red keep as a ’guest’ of the Queen.

A hostage all but in name once again.

Later that day a browbeaten Tyrion tracked Brienne down and told the knight that Jaime had been found beneath the red keep; stabbed, feverish and barely alive. He was going to die before the sun rose.

For one moment tears filled her blue eyes but she blinked them away when she remembered her last words to him.

She warned him he was going to die and he went anyway. For Cersei. He knew how dangerous it was but he went anyway. For Cersei. Jaime left Brienne, he left their child even if he didn’t realize it yet.

For Cersei

“Good for him,” Brienne snapped, trying her best to keep her voice even. “What does his death have to do with me?”

Tryion swallowed hard, cringing at the harshness in her tone. “He’s dying because our Queen isn’t allowing any of her healers to help him.” Brienne kept her face stoic, not revealing any of the feelings raging inside her.

“I know he hurt you,” the Lannister said, a final sort of desperation in his weary tone. “I know I have no right to ask anything of you in regards to him but if you ever had any affection in your heart for him then please, My Lady. Please don’t let my brother die…” Tears welled in his eyes. “He’s all I have left in the world.”

Brienne blinked away the moisture in her own eyes. Herchand flinched but she fought the urge to embrace her stomach.

“It’s against the law to not provide medical care for the highborn you’ve taken in as a hostage,” she muttered, doing her best to convince herself that it was only honor and the laws of the land that were compelling her to act. “If Queen Daenerys won’t allow her healers to work on him, then I’ll instruct my Maester to heal him to the best of his abilities…”

Which is precisely what Brienne had done. She told Waldon to go to the Kingslayer and help him. Heal him, bring him back to life… When Waldon asked her why she cared so much for _the man who left her_ , Brienne just repeated the law to him, ignoring his intelligent grey eyes flickering to her stomach.

Those same eyes that were scrutinizing her now.

“Is she okay?” Brienne asked once more, the silence drawing fourth panic.

“The babe’s fine, My Lady,” Waldon assured her to her great relief. “But you lost a lot of blood. Not to mention the fight took quite a toll on you.”

“I’m fine,” Brienne told him as she leaned back against her pillow.

“But you almost weren’t.” Sansa abandoned her chair and walked over to the bed. “You could have died, Brienne. Or the baby could have been hurt.”

“Do you really have that little faith in my fighting abilities?”

“I have the utmost faith in your skills, Ser, but that doesn’t change that you could have been seriously injured, even if his spear never touched you, which is exactly what happened,” Sansa protested. “And what in the world would compel you to volunteer to fight for him even if you weren’t with child? After all he did to you?”

“A broken heart or pregnancy doesn’t release me from a vow.”

“What vow do you have to the Kingslayer?”

_In the name of the mother, I charge you to defend the innocent._

“He was innocent of the crimes Queen Daenerys was forcing him to fight for,” Brienne argued. “He was pardoned for Aerys, she had no right-.”

Waldon shushed her and tutted gently. “Even the walls have ears, My Lady,” he said cautiously. “And after Greyworms defeat in the trial and your trick with the Valerian... I must counsel caution, Lady Brienne.”

“There was no trick,” she protested. “It’s not my fault she underestimated my intelligence, or does she think only the Targaryens know the language?”

“Even I was unaware you spoke anything but the common tongue,” Sansa admitted. ”I’ve never never heard you speak Valerian before.”

“And I don’t remember Septa Roelle teaching you at Evenfall.”

“She didn’t.” Brienne glanced down at the furs covering her. “Lord Renly taught me. When he came and stayed at Evenfall for a few months.”

For one moment she allowed her memories to take her away to when she was a young girl on the beaches of Tarth and Renly, not yet a king's brother but just the third son of the Lord of Stormsend, a perfect birthright match for the heir of Tarth, sat beside her with a book written in Valerian between them.

He wouldn’t sneer or snicker when she mispronounced a word or had to ask for his assistance. The young handsome lord just smiled kindly, never cruelly, and gently corrected her, the old language sounding like poetry on his soft spoken tongue.

But that was years ago. Renly was long dead and he would never speak to Brienne in Valerian, the common tongue or any other language again.

Brienne shook the memories away and looked between Waldon and Sansa. “What I did wasn’t a trick. What she planned to do if I killed him though…”

“What?” Sansa asked, ignoring the warning look the Maester gave them both. “What did the say?”

“She said if he fell… she would ‘rain fire and blood down on Jaime and I’.”

A heavy silence fell in the room. After a moment Waldon cleared his throat.

“Is that why you spared him, My Lady?”

“Partly,” Brienne admitted. “But I spoke truthfully; Greyworm is a capable commander and a good man, he shouldn’t have to die so the Queen can get his revenge against the Kingslayer. I meant what I said as well; I don’t want to kill for him anymore.” Brienne cast her gaze to her furs again. “I don’t want to do anything for him anymore, I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“I believe that ship has sailed, My Lady,” Waldon said not unkindly. Brienne gave him a weary side eye but said nothing. “...Are you going to tell him about the baby?”

“Why should she?” Sansa scoffed. “He left her, he choose Cersei over her.”

Brienne's face burned red. That was the worst part; the humiliation, the fact a man choose his own sister over her. She heard the snickers and sneers of the men in Winterfell once word had spread that Jaime left for Kingslanding, suffered their jokes that Brienne was so ugly and so bad in bed that he choose his own sister over her.

Brienne forced them to defend their words with their sword in the training yard but even knocking them down into the snow and dirt didn’t make her feel any better. She knew their words rang false, at least she hoped they rang false, but that still didn’t take the sting away.

“He gave up the right to know his child the moment he rode out of Winterfell,” Sansa continued. “She owes the Kingslayer nothing.”

Brienne swallowed hard. “I appreciate your concern, My Lady, but-.”

“You can’t seriously be considering telling him.”

“I haven’t decided anything yet.”

“He doesn’t deserve to know.”

“You’re right he doesn’t.” Brienne looked up to meet her lady’s eye. Her hands flitted to her stomach. “He doesn’t deserve to know her, he doesn’t deserve to look at her, he doesn’t deserve to love her. But SHE deserves to know her father… she deserves the world.”

Waldon offered her a soft, sad smile. “It may be a boy, My Lady.”

“Perhaps. Whatever it’s sex, it deserves a mother who would put aside her anger for its father and do what’s right for her child.” Brienne turned her attention to her maester. “Am I well enjoy to get out of this bed, Maester Waldon?”

“You’re going to be quite sore and a little faint but yes, My Lady.”

“I’ve dealt with and survived both before, I’ll be fine.”

“Wait you’re… you’re going to speak to him? Now?”

“If I don’t, I’ll lose my nerve.” Brienne smiled sadly at her Lady. “Besides, if he’s a ‘guest’ of the Dragon Queen, who knows how long he has?”

After a short lived protest Waldon and Sansa left the knight to dress herself, choosing a pair of warm black breeches and an ill-fitting deep blue tunic that was too tight around her growing chest and expanding stomach. If Daenerys or one of her unsullied looked carefully at Brienne they would see a difference in her shape, without question.

She would have to ask Sansa for leave to visit the closest tailor outside of Kingslanding soon, or else she would be walking around in naught but her name day suit. She knew there were dresses designed for a noble woman with child, corsets and dresses that stretched as their owners body grew but Brienne had never felt comfortable in a dress, and she wasn’t about to start now simply because tailors lacked the wits to know that a pregnant woman might not want to wear a heavy silk and velvet dress all day.

She strapped her sword to her side (not Oathkeeper; she couldn’t bare the sight of it after that night) and left her room with her hand wrapped around the hilt of her sword, untrusting of most everyone in this godsforsaken castle and city.

Just as it was before when he was wrecked with fever there were two unsullied guards outside his room and just as before Brienne had to hide a roll of her eyes. He had no sword and one hand, how much damage could he do that he needed two guards.

Brienne approached the door when the guards when they crossed their spears in front of the door.

“He’s healed,” the guard spoke in a thick Essos accent. “He doesn’t need your or your healers presence anymore.”

“Ser Jaime is a highborn hostage, he has rights,” Brienne protested. “And those rights include letting him converse with his champion.”

“He’s a prisoner of our Queen.”

“He was found innocent.”

The guard clutched the spear shaft tighter and Brienne grabbed the hilt of her sword. “You don't want to die for him.” Brienne warned the guards. “Let me see him and no trouble will come of it, I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.” She undid her scabbard. “I’ll even allow you to hold onto my sword as to prove I’m no threat.”

The two unsullied looked at one another before they turned back to the tall blonde and held out his hand. “We will have to tell our Queen you came to see him.”

Brienne kept her face as stoic as she could. “Of course. I have nothing to hide from the Queen.”

She handed her sword off to the guard and took a long deep breath before she hardened her nerves, held her head high and walked in to the Kingslayers room…

 

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	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime glared at the woman in front of him. “You’re saying I was a mistake?”  
> “I’m saying things would be a lot easier if you never showed up at my chambers drunk and started taking your clothes off.”  
> “As I recall.” He took a step towards the tall blonde. “You weren’t exactly protesting when I did.”  
> Brienne held his gaze. “Maybe I should have.” She wanted to flinch when she heard her voice, that damned breathless whisper again that only he seemed to bring out of her.   
> “Maybe.” Another step. “But you didn’t.”

Brienne watched as Jaime lept from the uncomfortable, half broken woven chair- the only price of furniture in the room Daenerys had tossed Jaime along with a thin mattress stuffed with hard straw not fit for bedding in a barn much less for the son of a Great Lord and a simple stand beside the bed that held a pitcher and glass and various bandages that Jaime would need to change later.

Even with his dislike and the strife with the Lannister’s and Starks, Lady Sansa still gave him chambers worthy of his station but the Dragon Queen clearly meant this to be an insult to the lion of the rock.  Jaime’s chambers were small and cramped and drafty and damp. Half melted candles, no private bath, a cracked leaking chamber pot and several other mismatched bits and bobbles had been tossed in here for storage rather than because it was its proper place… kitchen wrenches had better accommodations than Jaime had and probably smelled better too. 

But Brienne couldn’t find it in her heart to feel for the man who was staring at her with wide emerald eyes and a his jaw opened like a simpleton. Truth be told, she had a difficult enough time to feel anything but fury for her former lover much less sympathy for his less than ideal chambers.

“Brienne…” he breathed softly, and she blinked back her shock. She never expected to hear her name said from his lips again. “Brienne, I-.”

“No.” She barked her interruption, effectively silencing the Lannister. “I will not hear an apology from you, Kingslayer.”

Kingslayer. A cruel insult she knew he had not earned that never crossed her lips nor her thoughts since he begged her half mad with fever and sickness in the bath in Harrenhal until he left her cold and alone with tears frozen on her cheeks at the Winterfell gates.

She pretended that the wounded look he gave her wasn’t like a dagger in her chest.

She watched Jaime swallow the words she forbid him to speak. “May I offer you my thanks instead then, My Lady?”

“I’m not your lady.”

_ Not anymore, at least. _

She wasn’t his lady, she wasn’t his blushing maid or his shining knight nor was she his ‘sapphire beauty’… she was none of the words he whispered sweetly to her. She didn’t want to be anything to him, not anymore.

“Rather you are or not, may I still offer my thanks?”

“Do what you will, it makes no matter to me.”

The words between them were stiff and cold; like they were strangers rather than former lovers who shared the child growing in her womb. 

Jaime took a deep breath. When he looked into her eyes with soft emeralds she met him head on with hard cold sapphires. “I thank you, My-... Brienne. I would be dead if not for you. I didn’t deserve you defending me or fighting for me but you stood up in defense of me anyway. I thank you. Truly.”

A flicker of anger licked at her. “You do not get to make yourself a martyr, Kingslayer.” He flinched as if she had hit him and she might as well have, she realized. “I fought for you because it was the honorable thing to do; you’re unwell and she had no right to make you stand trial for pardoned crimes. Anyone would have deserved a champion in that situation.”

“Nevertheless, you… you saved my life. Again.”

“The law and honor compelled me too, Kingslayer.”

He flinched again. “My Lady, please-.”

“I told you, I’m not your lady.”

“You are my lady.” His words were soft and gentle and kind; the same way he spoke to her while they shared a bed. “You are, you always will be.”

“Until you decide you love another woman more and you leave me for her again.”

She watched him carefully, watched his emerald eyes cast downwards towards the dusty dirty floor. “That would never happen. Not again, I only loved… and she’s…” He shook his golden blonde hair now corrupted with grey. 

It was times like these where Brienne wished for the ability to be unkind. She wished she was able to be barbaric with her words about Cersei, about Jaime, about their toxic relationship but Brienne swallowed them all.

No matter how angry she was, how much she hated the golden haired twins, she could not bring herself to be needlessly cruel to him.

“I’m sorry she’s gone for yours and your brothers sake.” Jaime’s eyes met hers again. “But she’s still gone. She died, you left me, you went back to a ‘hateful woman’ and you couldn’t save her, just as I said.”

“I had to try,” he muttered. 

“No you didn’t, Jaime!” It wasn’t the admission that drew her ire, it was the fact that even now she could tell his convictions weren’t wholly sincere but they were a well known song that he no longer believed but he had to sing to please the crowds. The words had been placed on his tongue by someone else, someone with golden blonde hair and emerald eyes far less kind than his. “I told you you couldn’t save her! I told you she was too far gone! Everything I predicted came true and you ended up leaving me for nothing! You almost DIED for NOTHING!”

Jaime’s eyes was infuriating. They looked as if Brienne’s pain was his as well, as if he felt every ounce of her heartbreak.

He wanted to reach for her, she knew he did, and she drew back before he could. “Brienne-.” 

“Do you know what it’s like to see the person you thought you loved ride off to his death and not be able to do anything about it other than wait for that inevitable letter so you can properly mourn?” 

Flashes of Renly falling into her arms assaulted her, along with the gleeful announcement from the boy king Joffrey that Catelyn Stark was dead. She swore to protect them both and she could do neither, and now she had to live with the fact that if not for some miracle, if Brienne wasn’t traveling with her Maester than Jaime would have joined them.

The thought was enough to bring her to tears. 

“I know I should feel scorned but I care about that the least. I don’t care that you left me for her, I wouldn’t have cared if you brought her back to Winterfell with you, I don’t care that you preferred your sister to me, I don’t care about my heartbreak… I care that you almost died and I would have to live knowing I couldn’t save you.”

“Brienne, please…” Jaime was begging. “Please try to understand-.”

“Don’t,” she warned him. Don’t try to comfort me, don’t try to make me feel better.  You forfeited all rights to my heart the moment you left me for your sister.”

“I’m not trying to comfort you, I’m trying to make you understand, you stupid stubborn woman!”

“I do understand! You loved her more than me and  would have rather died with her than live with me. That’s all I need to understand.”

“That’s not-!... I mean-!... I love you both!” She watched him pace the floor. “Where is it written that you can only love one person?”

Brienne purses her lips and gave a curt nod. “Perhaps you did love us both. And now you have neither of us.”

At one time Jaime’s sharp glare would have made her cast her eyes downward and blush but now she had seen the worst and best parts of him and his glare was as harmless as a tourney sword held by a green squire.

“Why are you here?” His words were far sharper then his eyes. “You don’t want comfort, you don’t want an apology, you don’t want my thanks… what DO you want, Wench?”

Wench. That stung more than any insult he could have thrown at her, more than if he slapped her. He hadn’t called her that in so long that she nearly forgotten how much it hurt.

_ You called him Kingslayer,  _ she told herself biting back a command that he not call her that.

Brienne shook her head. “This was a mistake,” she muttered to herself. She spoke louder. “This was a mistake.”

“What was?”

“Coming here to talk to you. Us. This. All of it.”

Jaime glared at the woman in front of him. “You’re saying I was a mistake?”

“I’m saying things would be a lot easier if you never showed up at my chambers drunk and started taking your clothes off.”

“As I recall.” He took a step towards the tall blonde. “You weren’t exactly protesting when I did.”

Brienne held his gaze. “Maybe I should have.” She wanted to flinch when she heard her voice, that damned breathless whisper again that only he seemed to bring out of her. 

“Maybe.” Another step. “But you didn’t.” 

His eyes flickered down to her breasts and Brienne blushed scarlet and turned away. Not only for the overwhelming feeling he often made her feel when he looked at her like this, like he was a lion and she his prey, but she knew if he focused too long on her body he would realize she had changed.

She felt his finger under her chin and turned her face so she met his eyes. She didn’t look away.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I am. I never meant to hurt you, Brienne, I would have rather chopped off my other hand rather than see you in pain. This was just… it was something I had to do.”

The tall knight swallowed her tears and the other feelings that was drowning her as emeralds willed sapphires to become lost in them.

“If you ever presume to touch me again.” Her voice was shaking but her eyes stayed with his. “I’ll kill you.”

Jaime held his gaze for a moment longer before he stepped away and looked down at the floor. “Forgive me, My Lady.”

“I told you I’m not-.”

“You are.” He looked at her. “You always will.”

Her lip trembled. “I don’t want to be.”

Any bravado either of them had finally washed away. Brienne turned around fast, too fast, and she stumbled slightly, having to grab onto the bed to keep her upright.

“Brienne?” Jaime asked concerned. “Brienne are you alright?”

She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Her head pounded and the room swirled before her and dizziness almost consumed her. “I’m fine,” she groaned. “I just… I have a touch of vertigo, it’s fine. It’ll pass.”

_ Please let it pass. _

“Do you need a maester?”

She shook her head, groaning when that proved too much. “I just need to rest for a moment.”

“Here.” Jaime grabbed hold of her arm with only minimal protest and led her to sit down on the bed. “Sit down a moment.”

“Jaime, I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“You…” He went over and grabbed the pitcher and poured her a glass of what was inside. “Are a terrible liar.”

Brienne lifted the glass to her lips but flinched and her stomach lurched when the almost overwhelming smell of the sour wine reached her. 

“This is wine,” she said as she pushed the glass away from her. 

“Yes. Piss poor presents wine but wine. I refuse to be a hostage to the Dragon Queen without a little bit of it to get me through the day. But drink, it'll help with the dizziness.”

Brienne shook her head and handed him back the rejected goblet. “I can’t.”

“Brienne,” he sighed. “Just drink the wine.”

“No, Jaime-...” Brienne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was now or never. She placed a hand on her stomach. “I  _ can’t _ drink wine.”

He narrowed her eyes in puzzlement for a moment before they widened to the size of dinner plates and tears jumped to them as if she slapped him.

“You’re… truly?” His voice was a harsh whisper like he was holding back a thousand different emotions. 

Brienne swallowed hard and nodded. “The Maester said about eleven weeks so… that first week…”

Jaime fell to his knees as tears streamed down to his face, looking up at Brienne as if she was the sun and earth and all the Gods all wrapped into one. “You… you’re pregnant.”

”I am.”

Jaime lifted his hand and for a moment she thought he might caress her stomach when a realization hit him and he drew back. “Preg- you- you’re… did you just find this out? Just now?”

Brienne shook her head and flinched when fury burnt away the tenderness in his eyes. “You… you knew you were pregnant and you… you fought for me? You VOLUNTEERED to fight for me?”

“And I won.” 

He stood up from his spot and began pacing in front of the bed. 

“It doesn’t matter! You could have been hurt, the baby could have been hurt! He STABBED you in the STOMACH!”

“And we both survived!”

“But there was a chance you couldn’t have! Is- is that why you passed out?!”

“I passed out because an unsullied stabbed me in the shoulder!”

Jaime glared at her and if Brienne didn’t know better she thought he might have hit her.

She stood up from the bed and approached him. “Just because I’m with child doesn’t mean I’m not permitted to fight! I’ll not be some meak little lady who won’t even walk across the floor until she comes out of me! Not to mention I don’t need  _ YOU  _ to be concerned for  _ MY _ child!”

Any anger melted away replaced by a pain that Brienne knew was familiar to him. He swallowed hard, his voice soft and pleading. “Our child.”

Brienne just looked at him for a moment before she stood up, smoothing out her tunic. She ignored his eyes glued to her stomach. “Jaime, this doesn’t…” She closed her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you. Or I want to be together or that I want you, or… or anything else.”

“Brienne-.”

“I don’t want to raise her together and I’m only telling you because she.” Brienne placed a hand on her stomach. “Deserves the best in this world, and that includes a mother putting my feelings for you aside and allowing her to know who her father is. I won’t name some foot soldier as her sire or claim I don’t know.”

“So…” Jaime shook her head. “So you want-.”

“I want nothing to do with you.”  _ Who said I was a terrible liar? “ _ But I grew up with one parent, and I won’t do that to her, not by choice. I love my child more than anything in this life, I will choose her happiness over mine every time and if that includes being intertwined with a man I no longer care for for the rest of my life, for her sake, I’ll do it. She can spend six months at Tarth, six months at Casterly Rock or wherever else you choose to claim.

“But how- How will… I don’t… Brienne, please.”

Brienne hardened her gaze. “Goodbye, Kingslayer.”

“Brienne!”

Ignoring his pleas the Lady knight walked out, knowing the guards would hold him at bay should he try to follow. She walked down the long hallway and stairway back to her room, she really did need to lay down and get some water in her. Just as she was about to turn the corner she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

Brienne closed her eyes, steeled her nerves and turned to find Daenerys walking towards her flanked by three unsullied and three Dothraki. 

The unsullied respected Brienne. They respected her fighting prowess, they knew she was a master of the Westerosi way of fighting, they didn’t care what she had between her legs and she in turn knew they were masters of their skill and felt bad for the torture they had to endure to become that way. She felt safe with them, least of all for a lack of a weapon men sometimes used against unwilling women but also because they were by and large small and quick and without weapons she felt confident she could take them out if needs-be.

The horse masters though; were nearly as tall as her and strong, powerful, large. They always made the knight uncomfortable, the way they sneered and looked at her, like she was some conquest to win and they didn’t necessarily care about rather they earned her consent or not. 

They had no respect for any woman but Daenerys and made no efforts to hide their feelings towards the fairer sex, especially those who preferred to swing a sword rather than needlepoint. No matter how many times Daenerys assured them all that they had changed their ways for her, that they wouldn’t murder innocents or rape maidens or anything else the Westerosi were told about the Dothraki growing up, Brienne was always weary of them.

One woman did not erase thousands of years of cultures because of one trick in the fire.

Brienne gave a polite bow to the Queen. “Your Grace.”

Daenerys wore a smile but there was a fire in her eyes. “Lady, Brienne. Walk with me?” 

It was presented as a request but Brienne knew better than to deny it. “Of course, Your Grace.”

Brienne walked alongside the Dragon Queen, wishing she could simply hide away, desperately trying to ignore the snickering of the Dothraki and their foreign words she was sure were insults. She spared a glance behind her and caught one of the horse lords eyes.  

He was taller than Brienne by an inch and was marked with a long jagged scar across his cheek. He smirked at her and let his brown almond eyes look over her before he wagged his tongue at her . Brienne blushed scarlet and quickly turned back to the front, ignoring his deep laughter.

“Your Maester was kind enough to see to Greyworm,” Daenerys said. He said his leg will heal in time.”

“I’m glad,” Brienne said honestly. “He’s a good man and a competent soldier.”

“Very competent. I’ve yet to see him bested.” Daenerys looked up at the knight. “Apart from you, of course.”

“He nearly had me a few times.”

“Yes…  _ Nearly _ .” The iciness in her tone took hold of Brienne but she forced herself to stare straight ahead. “I was with you a few weeks in Winterfell, My Lady, I never heard you speak Valyrian before.”

“There was no cause for it.”

“My unsullied speak it better than the common tongue.”

“Had any of them wished to converse with me I would have spoken it with them. Greyworm and you always spoke the common tongue with me, I just returned the favor.”

Daenerys said nothing, not stared straight ahead. The silence was almost overwhelming. 

Brienne took a deep breath. “Your Grace, I-.”

“Why did you defend the Kingslayer?”

“Pardon?”

“Why did you defend the Kingslayer? The man who murdered my father? Who choose to go back to his sister over you?” Daenerys looked her over. “It is said that one who defends an oath breaker is untrustworthy as well.”

Another deep breath. “I had a duty as a knight, Your Grace. He was pardoned by Robert Baratheon and you were making him fight.”

“He was pardoned by a usurper, a man who had no right to the throne, a man who killed my brother.” Daenerys pursed her lips. “Yet your father supported him all the same.”

Confusion took over Brienne's face along with a healthy mix of feet that she struggled to hide. “I don’t see what my father has to do with this discussion.”

“Did he or did he not lead Tarth’s ‘sapphire soldiers’ against the crown during Roberts Rebellion?”

“He did but I don’t see-.”

“Then, rather than support the bastard king Joffrey or even his liege lord, he choose to support Renly Baratheon.” A fire engulfed the pale blonde. Daenerys had no right to speak his name. “The younger brother with no right to the throne at all, and he sent his soldiers to fight for him as well as his only heir to be his kingsguard.”

Brienne couldn't stop herself. She drew herself up to her utmost height. “Renly would have been a wonderful king.”

“A usurper like his brother.” Daenerys walked in front of the knight, effectively stopping her in her tracks with the unsullied and Dothraki standing behind her ready to intercede incase Brienne tried anything with the Queen. “And then, after all that, you choose to swear your sword to the Starks rather than the Lannister’s. Rebels to the crown.”

“I don’t serve the Sharks, I served Lady Catelyn and now I serve Lady Sansa and her sister.”

“A small difference.”

“But a difference nonetheless.”

The snake like smile unnerved the knight. “Perhaps. But, forgive me, Lady Brienne, it appears that Tarth doesn’t take their oaths to the crown as seriously as they hold them to usurpers. ‘Honor Above All’. That’s Tarth’s words right? Funny how with these last few kings they’ve had less honor than, well, your one handed lover.”

Her face blushed crimson but she would not look away. Brienne squared her shoulders and her hand flinched to her sword. The trained warriors at the Queen’s side must have noticed because all of them gripped their spears and akrahs and the scarred man’s snear disappeared from his face and was replaced by a snarl.

“Tarth honors their oath to the crown as serious as any other house.”

“So if I were to summon your father here to bend the knee, he would come?”

Fear clutched at Brienne’s heart. The stories she heard of Stark men burning when they came north suddenly found their way into the forefront of her mind and filled her with terror. She started to speak but found that her tongue had turned to ash in her mouth. “Your Grace, I-...” Brienne had to swallow the dryness in her throat. “I will swear fealty to the Crown on behalf of Tarth. There’s no need to summon my father.”

“Has he met with a demise that I’m unaware of?”

“No, Your Grace, but-.”

“Then he is still the Evenstar and you are merely an heir whose words mean nothing to anyone.”

“Your Grace, a true born heir is able to swear fealty so long as they are of age. There is no need-.”

“You are pledged to Lady Sansa. Before that Catelyn Stark then Renly Baratheon, and your former lover is Jaime Lannister… forgive me for not trusting your oaths.” Daenerys turned on her heel and began to walk away. “I’m summoning your father here to swear fealty, and I will not hear another word about it.

The unsullied fell in line without a word as well as two of the Dothraki but the one with the scar held back for just a moment, letting his eyes rake over her form before he turned and stepped back into formation.

 

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	5. Chapter 5

Pregnant.

Jaime took another swallow of wine. He was on his second, or perhaps his third or maybe his fourth, cup since Brienne had walked away and left him alone with only the shadows on the wall for company to mull over the news that she was carrying his child.

Pregnant. 

Her maester said she was eleven weeks or so along meaning their first week together he had managed to create life with her which in hindsight wasn’t surprising considering their first few days together every night ended with her crying out his name to the Gods and every subsequent morning was spent with him gasping out her name as he spilled his seed deep inside her and even one afternoon when he caught her alone in the armory. 

They had been drunk on life and the fact they had survived the long night and were flying high on the want and romance that came along with being new lovers in a relationship, a relationship, Jaime was elated to discover, that came with all the benefits of not being taboo. 

In the beginning Brienne blushed crimson whenever Jaime so much as caught her eye in the Great Hall over supper and she insisted he leave her chambers early in the morning so that no one would suspect he spent the night with her. But as time went on she began to care less and less about proper appearances and hardly even floundered when he would gift her a quick kiss in the Great Hall after breakfast before he left to help with the rebuilding of Winterfell and she would do whatever duty Sansa assigned her to do. 

He didn’t have to muffle her crying out his name, he didn’t have to make excuses when he said he would rather take his supper in her chambers, when someone required her attention and knocked on her door he didn’t have to hide under the bed, wrecked with shame or guilt like some kind of whore who had been caught by an unsuspecting wife.

He didn’t have to hide his smile when he was with her.

Pregnant.

Brienne of Tarth was pregnant. Out of wedlock. With Jaime’s child. And she wanted nothing to do with him. Not to mention the fact he was Daenerys’ prisoner and would probably die before he had a chance to lay eyes on the babe anyhow.

Fucking terrific.

Jaime poured himself another cup of wine and swirled the contents around for a moment before his door opened again.

“Doesn’t anyone know how to bloody knock anymore?” he muttered into his cup.

“You were supposed to die.”

Jaime turned and saw Tyrion standing in his doorway, looking like he aged ten years since he saw him last in the tent where he was taken prisoner. His pale green eyes sunken in like food hadn’t past his lips in days, his golden curls disheveled and unwashed and knotted and his clothes were wrinkled and disheveled as if he hadn’t bothered to change them from the night before. He reeked of ale and wine and when he stumbled into the room, he nearly fell over half a dozen times just getting to the bed.

He looked just as Jaime felt. 

“You were supposed to die,” he repeated, closing the door on the two Unsullied statues standing guard. “Or escape with her. But you weren’t supposed to be here…”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Jaime told him rather bitterly. “But I didn’t beg to be saved.”

“No, no you didn’t.” Tyrion walked over and grabbed the metal goblet from his brother’s hand and drank deeply from it. “I did though. Stupid man that I am, I begged for your life.”

Jaime furrowed his brow at the dwarf as he took a seat beside him on the bed. “You begged Daenerys to save me and she actually listened?”

He shook his head. “No.” Another long heavy drink. “Apparently her healers were too busy tending to the unsullied and Dothraki and she couldn't spare even one of them for half a second to bandage you.”

“Then who-?”

“Brienne. She brought a maester with her and I asked her to send him in to save you.”

Jaime’s face fell and he cast his eyes to the floor. Even after he did to her, after he left her abandoned and alone in the snow, after he broke her heart, after he nearly died for Cersei; she still wanted him to live.

_ For our child _ , he reminded himself. She wanted him saved for their child’s sake, that was all.

Tyrion took another long drink. “You don’t deserve her. You know that right?”

“Why do you think I left?” Jaime grumbled without looking up from the floor.

“Because our sister looked better in a dress.”

“Don’t insult her,” he said sharply. Normally his japes would cause a roll of his eyes or even a low chuckle but right now he wasn’t in any sort of mood to indulge his brother’s attempts at humor. 

Not when it came to them. 

“Besides… She didn’t look better when she wore blue.”

“Sorry?”

“Cersei. When she wore blue it washed her out and dulled her eyes. It just made her look pale, no matter what shade she wore.” Jaime pulled at a loose thread on his shirt. “She looked best in crimson.” 

“Forgive me, I never noticed how different colors ‘dulled her eyes’,” he slurred, taking another long drink of wine. “Then again I’m sure you noticed lots of things about our sweet sister that I wasn’t privy to.”

“Don’t,” Jaime begged. He couldn’t handle anymore japes or jokes or comments about either woman he loved.

“How her breasts felt in your hands, the sound of her moaning your name-.”

“Tyrion, stop.”

“The taste of her cunt... Tell me which was sweeter; our sister or your knight?”

Jaime’s hand almost whistled as it flew through the air and landed with a smart sounding ‘SLAP’ against Tyrions cheek. The younger Lannister fell off the bed from the force of it, an achievement that, had the mood not been so melancholy, would have brought a sense of pride to Jaime that he was able to inflict that much damage with his off hand.

“Cersei’s dead,” Jaime barked at the smaller man as he slowly picked himself up off the floor. “Have you really that little respect-?”

“For the woman who tried to kill me how many times?” Tyrion groaned as he stood, wobbling uncertainty. “For the woman who abused me my entire childhood? Who hired one of my only friends in this world to murder me? Who-.”

“For our sister. For the mother of your niece and nephews.”

Tyrion spat a glob of blood on the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “According to her I never loved them anyway so why should I respect her in the role she had bringing them into the world? Cersei believed I hated her children, my family, our House…”  He let loose a sad drunken laugh. “Hate… the one thing me and her had in common. She hated me, I hated her, and round and round we went until it killed us both.”

“You aren’t dead,” Jaime grumbled, handing Tyrion one of the clean bandages that was meant for his wound. “You wish you could be, right now I wish you were, but you are very much alive.”

Tyrion wiped the blood from his lip, sat back down on the uncomfortable bed and put his head in her hands. “I am dead, you just don’t see it yet. Maybe we both are. Maybe we’re already in the seven hells and we just don’t realize it.”

He shook his head. “Impossible.”

“Why would that be?”

Jaime picked up the goblet from the floor and filled it again, taking a long sip from it. “Because Brienne is here and Cersei isn’t.”

The two brothers sat in silence for a long moment, passing the goblet between the two of them. Jaime drank deep from the glass, letting the sour wine wash the ash from his throat so he might be able to speak.

“She’s pregnant,” Jaime muttered after a while, taking a drink right after so he might avoid answering any questions. 

Tyrion slowly turned and blinked once, twice, three times. Jaime couldn’t find the strength to look at him so instead he just looked into the grey mug, swirling the purple liquid around inside. “She’s… Brienne, you mean… she’s…?”

“Eleven weeks.”

“Eleven weeks, so… that first-.”

“We weren’t as careful as we could have been.”

“Not careful?” Tyrion let out his first genuine laugh in what felt like years. “Good GODS, man, did you sacrifice a goat to the Mother after every round?”

Despite everything. Despite the smell of death and ash heavy in the air, despite the heavy weight on Jaime’s chest about CerseI, despite his impending death by dragon-fire, despite everything; Jaime managed a soft chuckle and nodded. “Wasn’t that how Uncle Kevin used to say that’s how the Northmen got pregnant? They let their sheep get them started first?”

“When in Valeria…”

The two brothers shared a short laugh before Tyrion took the goblet from Jaime and raised it. A glint of happiness shined through the empty darkness he wore since the day Daenerys burnt down Kingslanding. “To the newest Lannister. Hopefully this one won’t fuck things up as bad as we did.”

Any amusement on Jaime’s face melted away, replaced with the same wretched melancholy he wore since Brienne told him. “It won’t be a Lannister,” he muttered bitterly. He took the goblet from Tyrion and drank. “It’ll be a Storm or a Snow, depending on if she has it back on Tarth or back in the North. Or a Waters if Daenerys keeps her and Sansa here long enough.”

Tyrion’s face fell. “You… aren’t getting married? It’ll be a bastard?”

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me.” Those words had gone over and over in his head a hundred times since she left but speaking it aloud nearly brought the once proud lion to tears. “She only told me so that our child might know it’s father. It’ll spend six months with her, six months with me so basically I’m gonna be away from my child half the year, and that’s not counting the winters where it would be impossible for her to travel so far. I’m going to be denied the chance to be a bloody father again.” 

Jaime finished the last of the wine and threw the goblet across the room with a crash. Any happiness he shared with his brother moments ago now gone. “And that’s if I manage to survive being the dragon queens prisioner. I might not even live long enough to even meet it.”

Tyrion cast pale emeralds to the floor. “Brienne as well,” he muttered, half hoping his brother misheard him.

No such luck.

Jaime whipped towards Tyrion, his eyes wide and terrified at the prospect of his brother’s words. “What are you talking about?”

“Our Queen isn’t all that pleased that Brienne won the trial.”

“She spared him!” he cried as if Tyrion himself was responsible for Daenerys’ upset. “I can count on one hand how many times in the seven kingdoms bloody history that the winning champion asked the loser to yield!”

“She thinks there as trickery involved with her knowing Valerian.”

“Because she happens to speak another language that means there was deceit?! She won that fight fair and square, Tyrion, she won that fight PREGNANT!” 

“I know, I know!” Tyrion hissed, casting a nervous look to the door where the Unsullied guards were an ever present reminder of the looming danger they all faced. He lowered his voice considerably. “She doesn’t trust anyone but her Dothraki and Unsullied right now, not even me. She thinks everyone is plotting against her no matter what the facts say and she… she wants revenge for what she thinks was trickery. I’ve told her that’s insane, that Brienne was just fighting for you and just happened to beat Greyworm but… she no longer trusts me.” 

“Who does that remind you of?” The tall lion shook his head in disgust for the Queen and the man sitting beside him. “Aerys sits on the throne again and you helped put her there.”

Tyrion swallowed hard. “I never… I believed in her.” He was pleading, Jaime realized. He was begging Jaime to forgive him for the part he played in putting a dragon back on the throne. “When I met her, she wasn’t… I never thought, I never would have…”

He was unmoved by his brother’s tears. The threat against Brienne and the babe inside her blinding him to any sympathy he might spare. “Lady Sansa saw the signs. The Tarly boy saw them, I saw them… if you weren’t so blinded by hatred for Cersei and weren’t so determined to get her off the throne-.”

“Because Cersei was a wise and just ruler who deserved to be Queen?”

“She wouldn’t have burned down a whole city after they surrendered!”

“She burnt down the sept.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes at his brother. “At least Cersei never pretended she was the hero. She never pretended she did those atrocities for the good of the realm or the good of the people. No one defended her choices… least of all the man who loved her.”

Tyrion was silent for a moment before he gave Jaime an infuriatingly sad smile that made him want to hit the younger Lannister as well as embrace him. “Here’s the difference between me and you though, Brother. I stopped loving my Queen the moment she caused the first scream but even now you continue to love yours. After loving her nearly killed you, destroyed the life you could have had with a good honorable woman and after everything else she did you still love our sister.”

“My loving Cersei didn’t burn down a city.”

“No it just started a war that nearly cost me my life countless times, cost you your hand and cost you and Cersei four children. And now it appears it’s going to cost you a fifth.”

Jaime clenched his hand into a fist so tight the scarred knuckles turned a blinding white. “Daenerys will not have Brienne or my child! I will strike her down, her unsullied, her Dothraki, I will cut down whoever I have to before that happens!”

Tyrion shushed him again and cast an nervous look towards the door. “Are you that eager to hasten their deaths and yours?”

Jaime scrambled up from the bed and slammed a finger in his brother’s face. “They aren’t going to die!”

“They will if you aren’t careful!”

“No! I won’t hear it, I will NOT hear it!”

“Will you shut up for once in your life?!” 

Jaime glared dangerously at the man sitting on his bed but held his tongue. He watched as Tyrion took a deep breath and held up his hands as if to surrender. “I will try to talk to her.”

“That isn’t going to work!”

“But it might! If she lays low and keeps her heads down and Daenerys doesn’t find out about the pregnancy, I might be able to get her out of here. You on the other hand-.”

“I don’t care about me right now, just get them safe.”

Tyrion nodded. “I’ll do my best.” Another deep breath. “She’s also summoned Brienne's father here to swear fealty. Perhaps if he licks the Queen’s boots enough she’ll be satisfied and let them both leave.”

“With Sansa? Because she swore an oath to keep her safe, and I don’t see the Dragon Queen giving up the North’s only reason not to rebel and Brienne won’t leave her here unguarded.”

“Brienne also has someone else to think about now apart from her oaths. Besides, there’s a particular Lord of Highgarden that owes me a favor who can be very influential when it comes to moving mountains.”

Jaime hardened his look. “If he hurts her-.”

“It’ll only be to save her and her child’s life.” Tyrion stood up from the bed and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, waiting until the two of them were looking at one another before he spoke softly. “I will do everything in my power to save the three of you. You have my word.”

“And you have mine that if any harm befalls Brienne or my child, I will not rest until I’ve killed her and anyone who followed her.”

“I understand.”

Jaime simply stared at him. “I will kill  _ anyone…  _ who followed her…”

He did not take his eyes away from his younger brother until he felt the gravity of his words and the meaning behind them sank in Jaime went to retrieve the goblet he had thrown and Tyrion took in a shaking breath and headed for the door.

“Do me a favor, dear brother…” Jaime turned towards him. “Try not to get yourself killed.”

All Jaime did was look at him. “You do the same,  _ dear brother _ .”

 

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	6. Chapter 6

“You won’t ever look like a lady,” Brienne’s septa told her once when she was seven, the first time she laid eyes on the young maid of Tarth. “But perhaps I could perfect a few aspects that might not make a Lord Husband totally ashamed of you.”

So what little parts of Brienne Septa Roelle could ‘perfect’, she did. She could do nothing about the absord height or strength, nor her freckles, broken nose or any other unfortunate physical aspects, nor, as many times as she made Brienne walk with books stacked on her head, could she make her graceful of feet.

But what other aspects Ladies had, Septa Roelle had made sure Brienne knew the ins and outs, backwards and forwards. She taught her how to speak properly to the point her speech riviled the Great House’s, she taught her needlepoint (although Brienne used that skill far more for stitching skin after a fight then embroidering dresses), she tried to teach her how to sing the pretty little songs that all the pretty little maids sang but her voice always cracked at the high notes and the songs didn’t sound nearly as beautiful in her deep nervous voice as they would have if they were sung by a real lady.

She also taught her how to eat properly. Tiny little bites while she sat up straight during her meals, tiny slow sips of water, and always push your plate away when it was still half full. “Nothing is more unattractive to a lord than a lady who gorges herself,” Septa Roelle scolded her once after slapping her eight year old hand when she reached for another lemon tart after supper. “You’re already ugly enough, you don’t need to add fat on top of it.”

Brienne kept that in mind her whole life. Even when she was out on the road she made sure her bites were dainty, she made sure she didn’t slurp her soup or her drink, and she always pushed away her plate when it was half full still.

Tonight though, all her proper training went out the window and she couldn’t find it in her to feel ashamed or even care. 

The castle was serving roast boar for supper, something she once enjoyed but now the mere stench of it much less the taste made her stomach roll dangerously to the point more than once she had to get up and hastily make her way to a privy so she could empty her stomach. So, after finding out what was on tonight’s menu, she charged Podrick to stay by Sansa’s side and took off in the woods that had escaped the dragons fire with an almost inhuman craving for fire-roasted rabbit.

Her snare worked quick enough and soon a large buck hare was skinned and turning on the spit and the smell was so overwhelmingly mouthwatering that the knight didn’t even wait for it to cool. 

Brienne took large un-lady like bites of the rabbit, groaning as her teeth ripped the perfectly cooked meat from the bones, not even bothering to remove it from the spit. If laying with Jaime had felt good, then eating this rabbit was as close to the heavens as Brienne could get while alive. But there was still something missing… something that would make this moment absolutely perfect and would totally sate her. And then it hit her.

Blueberries.

Lots and lots of blueberries. 

Brienne all but jumped up from her spot and made her way over to a clearing not too far from where she had made her cookfire where she spotted a patch of wild blueberries a day earlier.  She took as many as she could carry back to her makeshift camp and once there she popped a handful of the small berries in her mouth and groaned as the sweet juices filled her mouth.

Brienne leaned against a large tree as she feasted rather unattractively and her legs were spread comfortably open with no spared thought towards looking ‘proper’. 

She had a few generous bites of rabbit, more than a few blueberries and allowed herself to relax for a moment. Her daily duties behind her for the day, no sounds but that of the nature around her, not under the watchful frightening eye of the Queen and her scarred Dothraki guard, she knew Sansa was safe with Pod… 

It was a perfect way to end her day.

Almost.

After her small feast Brienne sat against her tree while her hand rested and caressed her growing bump and popping the occasional blueberry in her mouth, she allowed herself a small smile for the first time in weeks. 

It had been a month since she told Jaime about the pregnancy. Since then Daenerys had ‘volunteered’ Brienne to help with the rebuild of the Red Keep under the watchful eye of the unsullied and Dothraki. She agreed to help but once out of earshot she gave Pod specific instructions that no matter what, he was not to leave Sansa’s side while Brienne was working and if he was given orders to leave her to come to Brienne at once. She also began teaching Sansa how to use a dagger she found out in the rubble one day. If Daenerys wanted to hurt the Stark girl and Brienne wasn’t there to help her, she would make sure Sansa went down fighting.

One day she saw him across the hall she was helping clear out. Jaime, making a rare appearance outside of his makeshift prison, was flanked by his unwanted unsullied guard. He approached her cautiously as if she were a wounded animal and eyed the large bit of fallen rubble she was carrying out of the hall on her shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re… strong… enough…  to carry that?” he asked her carefully. “Perhaps you allow one of the other workers-

“I’m perfectly capable of knowing what I’m _strong_ _enough_ to carry, _Kingslayer_.”

Then, for an added punch to her statement she reached down and grabbed another rather large piece of rubble.

Jaime had glared at her sharply. “If anything happens because you over exert yourself be it on your own stubborn head then,  _ Wench.” _

He walked away then with the guards following them and not sparing her a second look. 

The next day though she noticed one of the Lannister soldiers that had been spared what they were calling the ‘purge of lions’ spent an unusually large amount of time picking up rubble beside her and whenever there was a large bit of rubble or stone that required a fair bit of strength he would race over to it and pick it up before she could get her hands on it and had been her shadow for most of the days following.

As she leaned up against the tree Brienne closed her eyes and let her fingers gently caress her stomach h and for just a moment she allowed herself to forget all the horrors of war, all of the fears she had for her babe, for Pod, for the Lady Stark, for Jai-... for others. She had no frets, no worries, no anything but peace. 

That was disrupted almost as soon as it began.

“Ser Brienne.”

Sapphire eyes flew open and for a moment fear gripped her. She had set the armor she used to hide her bump from Daenerys and her soldiers aside and her bump had grown enough that without it there was an obvious change to the woman with the usually flat muscular stomach.

Not to mention the way she had been caressing her stomach made the obvious even more so.

It wasn’t one of the Queen’s soldiers but Ser Davos, and he was staring at the bump with wide eyes and a slacked jaw. The rabbit and blueberries turned to a hard slab to concrete in her stomach and she swallowed hard as she stood up from the ground, terror still making it nearly impossible to think straight.

Davos may have been a good man and he may have forgiven her for the business with Stannis but he was loyal to Jon who in turn was loyal to the Queen. If he told Daenerys about her condition…

“Ser, please!” Brienne begged, almost cringing at the fear and desperation as well as the tears that lept to her eyes. “The Queen can’t know, if she found out-!”

“My Lady, relax,” he urged her, his gentle flee bottom accent calming her down considerably. “Clearly  _ this _ ,” he motioned to her bump, “is meant to be a secret. I won’t tell anyone, least of all the Queen.”

Brienne let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

“Is this a happy occasion for you and Ser Jaime or… not quite?”

“Both,” she answered honestly, popping another blueberry in her mouth. “Me and Ser Jaime… aren’t exactly getting along at the moment.”

“Understandable,” Davos said as he sat down beside her and held his hands over the remnants of her fire. “Nothings ever easy with that bloody family. Or any of the ‘great’ families for that matter.”

Brienne managed a soft chuckle and settled back against her tree while her hand went back to caressing her bump. “Truer words were never spoken, Ser.”

Davos nodded towards her stomach. “Do you want a boy or girl?”

A flicker of a smile came to her lips. “Either would be fine but I think it’s a girl. It’s just… I feel it, if that makes sense.”

“Aye, it does. Hell ‘I’m pregnant, it’s a boy and his name is Matthos’ was how my wife dropped the news. Eight months later out pops this tiny little lad, no bigger than a loaf of bread and screaming as loud as anything had a right too. She took him in her arms, he settled down, she smiled down at him and he looked up at her… She said ‘welcome to the world Matthos. I’m your mum. I knew who you were the moment I found out about ya’.”

Brienne smiled softly at the man but said nothing that would drag him away from the pleasant memory of his family, already knowing about his sons unfortunate demise.

Davos took a shaky breath and nodded towards the remnants of her rabbit. “Willing to spare any? I haven’t had a good hare in quite a while.”

“No please, help yourself,” Brienne told him as she grabbed it off the spit and handed it to him. 

She ate another handful of blueberries and tore off a strip of the meat from the rabbit. The man sitting beside her chuckled at the strange meal. “The little one wants rabbit and blueberries huh?”

“Mostly blueberries,” she admitted after she swallowed only to pop a few more blueberries in her mouth. “Quite a lot of blueberries, truthfully,”

“With Marya it was fermented crab. Stunk up the house something awful and sometimes she would wake me up in the middle of the night to go down to the docks and get some for her but it made her happy and apparently that’s what my son wanted so I did it with a smile. A tired smile, but a smile nonetheless.”

Davos laughed, ignoring the fact that any happiness she previously had begun draining from his companions face. “Love the woman to death, may the Stranger give her peace, but she was a handful when she was carrying. One afternoon I came home and she was a weeping mess, just sat on the bedroom bawling like someone murdered her mother. 

I asked her what was wrong, thinking something serious happened, right? Turns out she was crying because she dropped her hair brush on the floor but she had gotten too big to pick it up.” He laughed again. “I actually made her a little thing she could attach to her wrist and tie around whatever she was using so it wouldn’t drop. Then she started sobbing because she ‘married such a good man’.”

The blueberries soured in Briennes mouth and any previous happiness or relaxation she felt had thoughally disappeared. 

Tears pricked at her eyes when she realized that she would never have that with Jaime. She wouldn’t get him delivering blueberries in the middle of the night, he wouldn’t be able to tell stories about her pregnancy… Any fantasies she had of being wrapped in his arms while he caressed her stomach or the two of them in bed together while he spoke gentle soft words to the growing bump were just that; fantasies that would never come true.

Brienne blinked her tears away and she took a deep breath that she hoped hid her sorrow. Like all her hopes lately they went unfounded. “If you’ll excuse me, Ser, I should be heading back it’s getting quite late after all.”

Davos must have sensed the sudden shift in her attitude, as well as what had caused it because he gave her an apologetic look as she stood up from her spot and began putting on her armor again. “My Lady, if I’ve given offense-.”

“You haven’t.” She groaned as she bent back down to pick up the breastplate and Davos rushed over to help. She was too exhausted and her thoughts were already too full for her to be annoyed over another man seemed to think carrying a child made a woman helpless. “I’m just tired, Ser.”

“...I see. Well; if you’ll permit me to walk you back to the Redkeep? I think we could both use a good nights rest.”

After gathering up the rest of the blueberries, most of which Brienne ate on her way back to her chambers and the two knights bid one another goodnight. 

That night as she laid in bed Brienne discovered another part of pregnancy that Jaime wouldn’t be a part of, a part that all the songs and their flowery words of glowing skin and tender caresses of a young girls stomach ignored.

Brienne bit her lip so hard she was sure she was going to draw blood as she rolled her hips, trying to rid herself of this fire that seemed to take over her. The last few nights she would be annoyed at the feelings that she couldn’t seem to get rid of but they weren’t so overwhelming that she couldn’t ignore it. Tonight though; it was as if her feelings of wanting to be touched, to be kissed, to be fucked deep and long and hard couldn’t be set aside no matter how hard she tried to push those feelings away.

Her fingers lingered on the skin just above where her sleeping breaches were laced and after a moment to remember rather or not she had locked her chamber doors she pushed her hand past the edge of her breeches, through her soft blonde curls and touched the place Jaime had worshiped for a short time.

Brienne never touched herself prior to being with him. Even if she had been tempted with her own thoughts or dreams, she pushed the thoughts away and merely forced herself to ignore  _ those _ particular feelings first about Renly and then Jaime.

Then one night, about three weeks before he left on his suicide mission, the two of them were in her bed kissing one another, their clothes long gone and their arms wrapped around each other, both of them groaning and savoring at the taste of their knights.

Then Jaime had whispered something in her ear. “I want you to touch yourself.”

She ignored the plea, choosing to instead to respond with, “I thought that was your job.” She moaned as he kissed and licked at her neck. “A job you’re quite adapt at…”

“It is my job.” He ran his hand up her body and lightly tweaked one of her pale pink nipples the way he knew she liked, grinning when she cried out. “It’s my favorite job in the world. But I want to see you to make yourself cum thinking of me…”

Brienne froze and her face burned red with blush. “I’m…” She swallowed hard. “I… Jaime, I never…”

Her lion pulled away, raising a slight brow at her. “To yourself? Never?”

She shook her head and her blush deepened. Jaime reached out and tucked a pale lock behind her ear. His expression was as tender as his words. “You really belong only to me, don’t you?”

Before she could respond he was kissing her deeply but rather than running his hand over her, he grabbed hold of hers.

“Close your eyes, he whispered, giving her ear a gentle nibble for good measure. “Don’t open them, no matter what.”

Brienne took a deep breath, willing her blush to go away before deep blue eyes closed and she waited.

He interlaced his hand overtop her sand made her run her long calloused fingers over her collarbone before he moved it down and palmed her breast, allowing her fingers to run across her nipples. Her breath came out in short, almost scared, trembles as she anticipated where her hand would touch next. He slowly dragged her hand down her taut stomach, tracing the pronounced muscles in her abdomen before he was at the juncture between her thighs.

“Spread your legs,” he urged her in a breathless whisper.

She obeyed him without a second thought. 

He had her comb through her pale blonde curls before he placed his hand inbetween her slit. She didn’t move, just laid there on the bed, her breath stilled.

“Pretend that’s my hand,” he breathed in her ear, moving her hand slightly so she might get some friction on her clit. “Imagine that’s me touching you, getting you wet and wanting… can you picture it, My Lady?”

She nodded hurriedly, swallowing hard.

Jaime moved her hand in a pattern he discovered their first night together could make Brienne fall tonher knees and beg for him. “Imagine my lips kissing you, my tongue tasting you, my hand grabbing your perfect tits, my big hard cock buried deep inside your tight wet cunt…”

Brienne whimpered while she rolled her hips. She could practically hear his smirk when she began to touch her own clit in a speed and frenzy that was driving her wild.

“What am I doing to you?” he whispered to her, taking her other hand and placing it on her breast. This time she needed no prompting and she touched and grabbed her breast in a way she knew would take her to the edge. “What am I doing to you, Brienne?”

“You’re…” she moaned, increasing the pressure of her fingers on her clit. “You… Jaime...”

“Talk to me, My Lady. My sapphire beauty...”

“You’re fucking me,” she gasped, bucking her hips against her own hand. “Hard…”

“Am I kissing you?”

She shook her head, gasping and answering his question with a light pinch of her nipple.

“Mmm my lips are at your tits aren’t they?”

A nod and a gasp as she rubbed between her legs faster, harder, more frenzied. Her toes were curling and her breaths were coming out in more frantic gasps.

“You’re about to cum.” Not a question, an observation. “My cock is about to make you cum. I’m fucking you faster, harder… your cunt is soaked and slick and hot, you can barely stand it. I’m moaning you name in your ear.” She felt his lips against her ear and she went almost punishingly fast. “Brienne… Brienne, cum for me, Brienne… scream my name and cum for me,  _ now.” _

“Jaime!” she cried out loudly as she finally pushed herself over the ledge, her fingers dancing expertly against her clit, sapphire eyes flying open. “Jaime! Jaime..! Jai...-!”

He had kissed her then; deep and hard and groaning into her mouth. After she had come down just slightly, Jaime took her hand from between her legs, now soaked with her wetness, and brought it to his lips, moaning loudly when he licked her taste from her own fingers and spurring him on to take her without another second wasted for either of them.

Brienne was picturing Jaime now, despite her best efforts to imagine Renly, he would inevitably morph into the one handed lion.

His strong body on top of hers and his cock buried deep inside her. His lips were kissing they crook of her neck and his beard was pleasantly scratching her skin while his right arm embraced her as well as his left, the golden hand nowhere to be found.

His stump that once held his sword hand was hers and hers alone. She never once flinched at or drew away from it. 

Cersei had his golden hand; golden and beautiful but cold and unfeeling, an impractical almost painful falsehood that she forced him to wear born out of her disgust. Brienne had his stump; it was scarred and ugly, but it was him, it was real, it was Jaime. It was a reminder of his honor and what he had done for her.

Brienne would take ugliness and realness and honor over cold unfeeling gold any day.

She made herself cum hard and fast tonight, lacking the patience for anything sweet or slow, crying out his name and hating herself for it. After she had sated herself she rolled over and stared at the far wall, satisfied to an extent but not fully. Brienne didn’t want her own hand pleasuring her, she wanted Jaime’s, and, as she settled down for a restless sleep, her tears fell when she realized she would never get that again…

The next morning she roused herself from her bed and after dressing herself, hating the uncomfortable ill-fitting armor she was forced to don, she made her way to one of the smaller dining halls that the group that came up from Winterfell along with a few other stragglers had taken over as a spot to have their meals.

Brienne caught the Onions Knights eye across the room as he sat behind an extra brooding Jon Snow, not that she could blame the former Nightswatch men, sharing a soft smile with the onion knight before she sat down beside Pod who had been unusually quiet around his Lady knight these last few days.

She would have to ask him what was going on later when they were alone.

“What’s on the menu today?” the blonde asked. “I’m absolutely famished.”

“Eggs fried in bacon fat and pork sausage,” Sansa answered with a sympathetic look knowing that Brienne’s stomach was lurching just as the sound of it. Sansa offered her a plate full of bread from the center of the table. “But there’s some brown bread and butter as well.”

Brienne accepted the bread with a thanks before pouring herself a goblet of water infused with Dornish lemons. As she sat there chewing, in small dainty bites of course, she tried to hide her displeasure for the meager breakfast. She would have to go out before she started her work to snare herself another rabbit, or perhaps a partridge. 

Either way, it would be eaten with blueberries.

In fact just the thought of the small sweet berries made the bread heavy, thick and tasteless in her mouth. She didn’t want bread, she certainly didn’t want pork sausage or fried eggs; Brienne was craving blueberries, and a large vast of them.

Just as she was about to excuse herself from the table specifically for the purpose of gathering her breakfast when she caught sight of Sansa suddenly narrowing her eyes at the front entrance.

“My Lady, is everything alright?” Brienne asked as she too glanced towards the door, grabbing the hilt of her sword just incase. Her face fell when she saw the one handed man walking into the dining hall, flanked of course with his guards, looking as well as a captive and caged lion could be expected to look.

Jaime’s hair and beard was shaggier, more wild, then when she saw him last and he was all but swimming in the grey commoners clothes that Daenerys had given him and he still had no replacement prosthetic for the stump. But what was worse than all of that were those emerald eyes were now dull and lifeless, with only a memory of the spark she remembered.

He was also holding a small bowl of something.

“I thought he ate in his chambers?” Pod muttered, hating the man who broke his knights heart.

Brienne pretended that the contempt for Jaime in her squires voice didn’t crush her.

“He does normally,” Sansa replied before raising her voice and eyes to meet the man who was walking over to the their small table. “What do you want, Kingslayer, we’re busy.”

“Good morning to you as well, Lady Stark,” Jaime muttered without sparing a glance towards the redhead.

Without another word Jaime placed the bowl in front of Brienne, pushing away the rejected bread and tears rushed to her eyes when she saw what was in it.

Blueberries.

She glanced up from the table to look, first at Davos who just sent her a kindly smile before he turned back to his own breakfast before, then up at Jaime who appeared, if she had to wager, hurt. He leaned down next to her ear, his words a soft whisper that his unsullied couldn’t hear.

“I know you’re angry at me, and you have every right to be… but if you’re craving something, tell me; don’t let me find out from the bloody onion knight.” He took a deep breath. “Even if you don’t want to be together, I am still that child’s father, and a father’s duty is to give the mother what she wants when she’s carrying his child. So please, Brienne… Let me help you during this part at least.”

Brienne wasn’t sure what to say to that. She wanted to argue and tell him she didn’t ask nor require her help in this pregnancy, and she was more than capable of looking after herself and the baby. But in the same breath she wanted to just breakdown and weep on his shoulders, tell him she needed his help and wanted nothing more than for him to be apart of this moment, to do everything for her that she dreamed of her Lord Husband doing for her when she became with child.

But neither option sounded right at the moment. She was still far too angry to ask for his comfort and was far too emotional and wanting to be cruel and send him away. So instead she just stared hard at a particular knot in the wood that the table was made out of, unwilling and unable to look at him. Not now, not when he when he was so close to her. If she did, there was a strong chance that she would become lost in those eyes, knowing how lifeless or dull they because she could still lose herself in the beauty of them.

“Thank you for the blueberries,” she muttered, soft enough for him to hear, neither accepting nor denying his plea that he be allowed to help her but it still stung the already wounded lion and he intook a sharp breath as if she slapped him.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Be that way.” Jaime leaned in closer to her, his words more vinegar than honey this time around. “You should also know; that a ship flying Tarth’s sigil sailed into Blackwater Bay this morning.” This time she did turn to meet his eyes. “Your father is in Kingslanding.”

 

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	7. Chapter 7

Next to the Clegane brothers, Lord Selwyn Tarth was the tallest man Jaime had ever laid eyes on.

The Evenstar stood several inches taller than his heir and was a large man with broad shoulders, big calloused hands, thick legs and a sturdy chest but he was heavy with strength and power and muscles rather than fat and walked with the command of a highborn lord and a confident soldier.

He wasn’t what you would call a handsome man but his features were sharper than his heir. He sported smaller lips, a more pointed jaw and his eyes, though they were the same deep brilliant blue color, were steelier than his daughters but still reflected the same intellect and strength she had and, Jaime had no doubt, would have shown her warmth and softness if you caught him on a good day. 

_ That’s what an Andal king should  _ look like, Jaime thought as he watched the man walk into the makeshift throne room. He was regal with an ancient soul but with the hardened eyes of a tested commander.

Selwyn looked more or less the same as he did when Jaime saw him at Joanna’s funeral and then years later at his sons funeral. A few more lines in his face and his blonde curls, only a shade darker than Briennes and cut short in the traditional southern style, was now streaked with grey, but he was more or less the same man. 

His armor was rose and azure colored with the quartered sunburst and crescent moons of Tarth with azure colored mail beneath it. It was practical and, Jaime noticed with admiration, dented and scratched and aged with use which meant that he didn’t send his soldiers to fight while he stayed in a command tent and the armor was only for show. Selwyn fought right alongside his men; just as Brienne would have. 

The only decoration that all Lords seemed to dawn on their armor (that god awful blue and white feather on Mace Tyrell’s helm came to mind)  was a moon and sunburst made out of of white and yellow gemstones on his rose colored helm. He wore a scabbard made of blue leather decorated with suns and crescent moons and the hilt of the sword on his left hip was beautifully adorned with sapphires and at his other side was a sword with a simple rose colored hilt.

Jaime couldn’t help the small smile when he spotted both swords at the Evenstars hips.

_ “I never knew why some knights felt the need to carry two swords.” _

His eyes flickered between Selwyn and Brienne who was standing in the crowd with her Maester by her side, watching nervously, her hand gripping Oathkeeper’s hilt so tight her knuckles were blinding white. Selwyn’s eyes were hard and focused on the Queens while Brienne’s were as apprehensive and fearful as Jaime had ever seen them, glued to her father. He resisted the urge to cross the room to comfort her, unsure rather or not, first off if she would allow him to console her, but also if she had told her father about their history or relationship much less the baby.

If he was afraid of the stories he heard he didn’t look it. Jaime watched as Selwyn walked towards the Dragon Queen, head held high, intelligent eyes determined and flanked by four steadfast guards in rose colored armor and a single large sunburst on their chest, azure mail beneath it, an azure helm with a painted white crescent moon on the side of it with a simple blue scabbard and the same plain rose colored hilt that Selwyn wore on his right hip sticking out of it, none of whom appeared remotely terrified at the prospect of being burned alive. 

As Jaime watched Selwyn and his guards, the ‘Sapphire Soldiers’ that the rest of Westeros called the knights and soldiers of Tarth, he couldn’t help but picture Brienne in the armor that her father wore, standing proud and tall in her House colors that he came to realize he never actually saw her in apart from Joffreys wedding where she wore that bright blue tunic/dress and of course his deep blue armor he had made for her. 

_ She would look good in rose _ , he thought to himself as he watched her. Blue brought out the astonishing beauty in her eyes, but the deep pink color would have complimented her fair features. 

Selwne and his guards stopped a respectable distance away from the Queen, far enough away not to give cause for concern but close enough to let her know they did not fear approaching her. The unsullied and Dothraki guards all seemed to grip their weapons extra tight at the sight of the large man.

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name,” Tyrion muttered, not mustering half of the enthusiasm as her former announcer had done whenever Missandei spoke her long and lofty titles. Tyrion was weary and it showed in his voice and on his face. “Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt and the Breaker of Chains.” 

If the list of accomplishments impressed Selwyn his face didn’t show it. He bowed low and Jaime flinched. Didn’t he realize how dangerous that was, exposing his neck to the enemy like that? 

“Your Grace,” he greeted the hard Dragon Queen, his voice deep and as elegant and highborn sounding as Brienne's. “I am Lord Selwyn of House Tarth, the Evenstar and Lord of Evenfall Hall.”

Daenerys regarded him for a moment before she spoke. “Thank you for receiving me, My Lord.”

“No thanks necessary, Your Grace. When a Queen summons House Tarth for an audience, we answer.”

There had been no insult in his words nor malice or smug snideness, just a truth that sent low murmurs throughout the gallery.

_ A  _ Queen. Not  _ The _ Queen, a distinction not missed either by Daenerys or Brienne.

A shadow of fury at the disrespect overtook Daenerys hardened gaze. “You’ll find, My Lord, I am  _ THE _ rightful and  _ ONLY _ Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, including the island of Tarth.”

“As you say, Your Grace.”

Still not an admission of her title or position. Jaime bit back a laugh at the ire in Daenerys’ eyes. So this was where Brienne got her past the point of sense stubbornness from. 

Any smile he wanted to wear at the look on the Queen’s face was beaten back when he noticed the fear etch deeper into Brienne’s pale features across the hall. She was terrified for her father and there was no comfort he could give her. 

Jaime swallowed hard when he was reminded of Cersei weeping and clutching his shirt, begging him not to save her but to save the life inside of her, and all he could do was hold her and tell her over and over that they were the only ones that mattered, told her to keep her eyes focused on his while he struggled to control his own panic but he might as well not have said anything at all.

She had died terrified with heavy tears in emerald eyes and a sob caught in a throat that would soon become choked with ash and dust. His comfort had been meaningless to Cersei, same as it would be if he offered it to Brienne.

Daenerys set the moment aside for now and she fought to regain the cold hardness she had when he first walked into the makeshift throne room.

“You say that House Tarth answers the call of your Queen and King. Yet when my fathers forces required soldiers, you pledged yourself and your men to House Baratheon and the usurper Robert Baratheon.”

“Stannis Baratheon pledged Tarth to his brother’s cause in the beginning of the rebellion. I would not disobey my Liege Lord.”

“Aerys Targaryen was your King.”

“He was, Your Grace. And Aerys Targaryen was a king without honor. I’m sure you’re aware of my House’s words?” He didn’t wait for her answer, nor to his credit did he flinch when the cool mask cracked with the heat of her fire. “‘Honor Above All’. Your father was not an honorable man, Your Grace, and I would not pledge my men to him.”

Jaime saw the Dragons pale white hands tremble with fury and his fear for the tall man grew. 

“You choose to listen to Stannis Baratheon when it came time to overthrow my father.” Jaime flinched at the furious shake in her voice. “Yet when he pressed his claim to the throne, you denied him your men and pledged them, as well as your only surviving child, to the usurpers younger brother. You also choose not to support the monarch who sat on the throne at the time.”

“Joffrey Baratheon was a cruel dishonorable king, and a bastard born of incest as well.”

Jaime and Brienne’s eyes did meet at that. He saw her hand flinch towards her stomach as if caressing the babe might protect it from its grandfathers harsh words decrying bastards. Also, although later he would convince himself he had imagined it, he thought he saw a flicker of an apologetic sad smile at the insult of his first born son.

“And Stannis? What made you change your mind about your ‘honorable’ Liege Lord?”

A mirror of his daughter when she knew her stubbornness and steadfastness was about to get her in trouble but honor compelled her to speak up, Selwyn raised his head, drew himself up to his full imposing height, and his blue eyes met Daenerys’ violet one's head on. “Stannis burned people alive. I would not have my men pledged to a monarch who does that to the people they’re sworn to protect. Not then, not now, not ever.”

There was another murmur louder than before that made its way through the gallery at the show of defiance. Jaime saw Brienne’s eyes close in defeat and saw her  shoulders slump. 

Daenerys glared at the tall man, her chin trembling in anger. “I would advise you,” she growled. “To be VERY careful, My Lord.”

Selwyn ignored the threat. “As for pledging my only child to Renly’s cause.” He stared straight ahead as if to keep the identity of who he spoke about a secret from the Queen, a fruitless effort on his behalf he had to have known. “I gave her a choice, Your Grace; pledge her sword to Renly like the rest of the men or stay on the island with the rest of the women. She choose Renly. She can take better care of herself than most soldiers and I never had any doubt in her ability to defend herself or her king.”

Jaime looked over at Brienne and saw even from where he was standing the crimson creep up her neck as well as the tears gathering in the corner of her big blue eyes.

He wanted to weep for her. For the fact she was so unused to compliments that a simple one from her father could make her face burn hot with blush, for the pain she was feeling knowing her father’s life was hurtling towards its end if the look in Daenerys’ eyes were any indication, for the fact that he made it so she wouldn’t turn to Jaime afterwards for comfort… 

Brienne deserved better. From life, from this world, from the monarch on the throne, from Jaime…

Daenerys glared at the man standing before her. Her long nails scraped the wood as she clenched her hand into a fist. “Am I correct in assuming then, My Lord, that you will not swear fealty and bend the knee to House Targaryen?”

Jaime held his breath, his eyes moving from a terrified Brienne to her steadfast father.

“Kneel,” he muttered, too low for anyone around him to hear. “Kneel… kneel.”

_ For her. For your grandchild. Please. _

Selwyn’s eyes never wavered. He did not flinch. He held his head high. “I will not, Your Grace.”

There was a collective gasp in the room along with the sound that would haunt him until the end of his days; Brienne’s cries.

Selwyn’s eyes did look over at her then, for only a moment before he turned back to the Queen looking less sure of his steadfastness then he had been moments ago.

Daenerys didn’t spare a moment or glance towards the desperate Lady Knight and she straightened up on her throne, somehow managing to look down at the Lord who stood a foot and a half taller than her.

“Then Lord Selwyn Tarth, The Evenstar and Lord of Tarth, I, Daenerys of House Targaryen, First of My Name, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons, sentence you to die.”

Jaime heard the song of Valyrian steel being removed from its scabbard before he saw her push easily through the crowd, Oathkeeper in hand, ignoring Waldon begging her to stay still. The Dothraki and unsullied guards all gripped their weapons and pointed them at the tall blonde who hurried to the center of the throne room.

Jaime sprinted forward, managing to break through the crowd and escape his guards for half a moment. He would not allow her to fight and die alone. 

Selwyn’s eyes flickered over to the lion for a moment but just as Jaime went to grab a sword from a nearby unsuspecting Northmen, Brienne threw herself to the floor and drew herself up so she was kneeling, laying Oathkeeper on the marbled floor beneath her.

“I pledge the faith of the Isle Tarth and of House Tarth to Queen Daenerys Stormborn and to House Targaryen.” 

She stammered out the oath so quick and her voice was so choked with tears it was nearly impossible to make out the words. Her shoulders shook as she fought with everything not to weep at the Queen’s feet.

“Don’t!”

Jaime actually froze mid-step at the voice that ripped past Selwyn’s lips, staring wide eyed at the towering man. Tywin rarely had to raise his voice to intimidate his children, or anyone really. He was cold, calculating, fighting his battle with wits and cruelty more often than sword. Selwyn Tarth however, had a voice that filled the entire room when he was being soft much less barking an order. Even Daenerys seemed to pull back from the booming voice.

Brienne, rather she was used to it or was too determined to be deterred, simply closed her eyes as tears pooled in the corner of them, ignoring her father's sharp command. 

“Hearth and heart and harvest we yield up to you, Your Grace.” 

“I will not allow you to pledge our men to a butcher!”

Brienne’s chin trembled mercilessly. “Our swords and spears and arrows are yours to command.”

“Brienne!”

“Grant mercy to our weak, help to our helpless, and justice to all, and we shall never fail you.”

Jaime closed his eyes as she finished her oath. She sounded so defeated and broken, so helpless and there was nothing Jaime could do for her. She had pledged Tarth against her father’s wishes to a dishonorable tyrant, a dishonorable tyrant who wanted her dead for no other reason than she defended him and allowed her only friend left in the world to yield.

Jaime spared a glance at the Evenstar who had iron in his stance and steel in his eyes. Daenerys regarded Brienne coldly, like her words had been a tavern song rather than an oath of fealty, one she had taken in spite of her Lord Father’s insistence.

“You are only Tarth’s heir. The Lord of Tarth refuses to bend the knee.”

“Your Grace, please.” Jaime closed his eyes, the memory of her begging him to stay in Winterfell, begging him not to go to Cersei, begging him not to die for her a painful raw still bleeding that had just been ripped off him again. “I swore fealty to you, House Tarth is yours. There’s no reason for you not to accept my oath.”

Her tears didn’t move the Dragon Queen. “Your father admitted to treason here in the Red Keep. He admitted he would not send his soldiers to fight for me should the need arise, he refused to call me his Queen, he insulted me and he insulted my father.” Daenerys looked past Brienne to her father, a whisper of smugness beneath her anger. “He should be grateful I’m giving him the mercy of a quick death.”

No. No. Brienne didn’t deserve another striking blow in her life, she didn’t deserve to lose another person she loved, especially because he was the reason for Daenerys’ ire against her and her family. Jaime looked to Tyrion; desperate and pleading. He was the smart one, he would know the right words to say to save someone. Jaime fought with swords and lance, Tyrion fought with his tongue and wits just as their father had done and right now he needed smooth words and clever lies, now a sword but he barely looked up from the spot he was staring at. He was beaten, resigned to a terrible fate or serving a terrible Queen. 

Tyrion went away inside, just as Jaime had done when he served Aerys.

Last time Jaime had tried to help her using clever words and silky lies he ended up losing his sword hand. He took a deep breath and took a bold step forward, trying not to think about what he would lose this time around if his plan didn’t work.

“You have enemies in Essos, Your Grace.”

Jaime felt every eye on him but he felt none so more as Brienne. He took a few steps closer to the tone, only to be halted by unsullied spears pointed at him.

“If Essos enemies were to attack Westeros then Tarth is the first line of defense. Five times in the seven kingdoms history Essos has tried to launch an assault, and five times Tarth has beaten them back as well as given advanced warning to the mainland so the rest of the realm might prepare for an invasion should they land on our borders.”

Jaime prayed to the Warrior, the Father, the Mother, to all seven new Gods and the old Gods and the Lord of Light and every other God he ever heard of forSelwyn and Brienne to keep quiet and not tell the truth about the sweet lie he was singing. 

As far as Jaime knew, an Essos force had only tried to invade once, before the days of Aegon. Tarth had given advanced warning as well as fought bravely but they played an overall small part in the assault launched by the Storm Kings. 

Daenerys raises her brow at the one handed man, not quite believing the story, “really?” 

“Yes really, Your Grace.”

“When did these battles take place?”

_ Shit _ .

She wouldn’t be as easy to fool as Hugo Locke had been.

“One was during the age of Heroes,” Jaime answered as casually as he could. “Another just after the Andal invasion, another a few hundred years after that. Then…” 

“I believe one happened a thousand years before Aegon’s Conquest, Your Grace.”

Jaime looked towards his brother who had managed the strength to lift his head, heavy as it was. He was avoiding his brother’s eyes and was looking up towards the Dragon Queen.

“They barely managed to beat them back but the Baratheon fleet came in at the last minute thanks to their warning,” Tyrion continued. “Then there was the battle where the Tarth legend Ser Galladon of Morne cut down a thousand Essos invaders with the sword… what was the name of his sword, Ser Brienne? The Maiden?”

He had to admire the way his brother lied so effortlessly, giving just enough vague details to make it believable but not too much that he overcompensated. Not to mention he asked Brienne a question she would be able to answer about the supposed battles without her having to make up a story. 

“The Just Maid, My Lord,” he heard Brienne answer rather stiffly, and Jaime hoped Daenerys would think it was due to the situation as a whole rather than the fact she had been dragged into a lie involving one of her heroes as well as her brother’s namesake.

“Ah, my mistake. But, Your Grace, if you execute the Evenstar, if there is a sixth assault they may not give warning or fight against them the next time they try to invade.”

Jaime could see the wheels turning in the Queen's mind. He tried not to look too eager and kept his expression as neutral as he could. 

“Why shouldn’t I just take their island away from House Tarth?” Jaime was delighted to hear less iciness in her words but was rather speaking with a tone that implied she was, at least part way, interested in a genuine answer. “Why not give it to someone loyal to the throne.”

“She pledged her house’s fealty to you against her father’s wishes, Your Grace,” Jaime protested. “How much more loyal do you want?”

He could see her struggle to find a solid argument against him and he fought to keep his grin from showing. He may get Brienne’s father out of here alive…

Daenerys turned towards Selwyn and hardened her expression. “One hint of treason, one hint of impropriety, one HINT of rebellion and I will remove Tarth from your family and your head from your shoulders. Do you understand me, Lord Selwyn?”

Jaime looked back at him and for one fearful moment he thought the older man might be steadfast and stubborn and continue his argument. But Jaime knew when Selwyn’s eyes looked towards Brienne, who had quite literally thrown herself at the mercy of the Queen to save his life, he could relax.

He wouldn’t make her go through losing someone else.

He gave a polite bow of his head. “I understand, Your Grace.”

Jaime wanted to roll his eyes. Were all Tarths this bloody stubborn? Selwyn didn’t say he wouldn’t rebel or commit treason, just that he knew what was at stake if he did; a distinction that Jaime knew the Queen would make him pay for later judging by the flames in her eyes and the sharpness she looked at him with when she stood up from her throne and excused herself for the rest of the day.

Jaime waited until the Queen had gone from the room before he turned towards Brienne who was finally standing up from the crowd, the shock of what had just happened fading and she realized all eyes were on her. He wanted to smile at the blush that was creeping to her cheeks but he thought that wouldn’t be exactly prudent. He took a deep breath and walked over to the tall knight, hoping she wouldn’t pull away from him.

“Are you okay?” he asked her resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her.

She parted her lips to answer but she was cut off but a harsh. “Brienne.” 

Jaime and her both turned towards her father who was giving his daughter such a steely and angry look that the lion had to stop himself from stepping between them. 

“I need to speak to you alone .”

She swallowed hard as the red creeped up her neck. “Father, I-.”

“ _Now_ , Brienne.”

Without waiting for a reply Selwyn looked over Jaime for a moment, earning a raised brow at the familiar expression. He had just saved his life and saved his daughter from having to witness her father being burned alive yet he gave him that same look that he had seen over and over for years and years, that he could infect the offended party with dishonorable intentions just by standing near them.

Without another word towards either of them Selwyn turned on his heel and walked out of the hall with his guards in tow. 

“I think he likes me,” Jaime said, the sarcasm nearly drowning his words as he looked after Selwyn. “After all why wouldn’t he, I only-.”

“Thank you, Ser Jaime. For everything.”

The simple words cut off any further complaints he had about the tall man who hadn’t even bothered looking grateful they Jaime lied to the Queen for him. Jaime looked at Brienne and swallowed hard at the softness in her features that she reserved only for her. He knew right them she could hardly stand to meet his eyes but she willed herself too if only for a moment before she headed off to follow her father, leaving Jaime with the first smile since this all began.

It hasn’t escaped his notice that she had called him Ser Jaime rather than Kingslayer…

 

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	8. Chapter 8

Brienne led Selwyn and his guards to her chambers, her head cast down and hands clenched. She felt like she was five years old and was about to be scolded for tearing a dress she never even wanted to wear in the first place.

She only recognized one of the guards her father had brought with him, a handsome and trim knight with short wavy sandy blonde hair and green eyes that were so pale they were almost blue named Hayden Flatsun who had lived on the edge of the slums near Evenfall Hall just far enough away to sneer and was able to tell himself he was better than those who lived two measly blocks away. He stood several inches shorter than Brienne but she was well aware just how lethal with a short sword he could be.

Lethal to the point that when she fought against him in her first ever tourney in The Stormlands when she was fifteen and he had just celebrated his nineteenth name day, he almost had her beat. But Brienne managed a bit of graceful footwork that she only seemed to have in battle and struck what would have been a killing blow to the head with her Morningstar had it not been blunted. 

After the crushing strike he yielded and Brienne beamed with pride, drunk on the excitement of winning the first tourney Selwyn allowed her to enter. She offered Hayden a hand up after he fell, prepared to shower him in praise for his fighting prowess and the fact that he had nearly bested her but he slapped her hand away and fumbled to his feet, glaring at the tall maid. 

“I’d say it’s against my code to hurt a woman and that’s why I lost,” he hissed at her so low that her father, who was watching from a seat of honor, couldn’t hear the insult, “but you’re no woman. You’re just an ugly cow with no tits.”

When her father asked Brienne about the tears she had in her eyes when she had been named the champion, she lied and said they were tears of joy.

Since then he had never failed to insult her whenever he saw her, the embarrassment of losing a tourney to a fifteen year old girl when he was a nineteen year old knight proving too much for his fragile ego.  As they aged his failures at her hand came time and time again, each fight lasting shorter and shorter as her skills and strength grew, but he never hesitated to strike at her with his cruel words, even when they were adults, even when they both left for Renly’s camp.

He entered the melee for the opportunity to be his Kingsguard and when she has bested him again he  snarled his insults but they went in one ear and out the other that time. This melee wasn’t just for kicks or honor or a chance to show off her skill; this was for Renly, and she needed to focus.

That was the last time she saw him until now. Hayden had hung around with the other Tarth soldiers and knights in the camp and Brienne had stayed by Renly’s side as his kingsguard and then disappeared with Catelyn Stark after the stags death. Now here he was; leading the Evenstar guard, a place of honor for any Tarth knight, while Brienne was struggling to come up with an explanation as to why her being pregnant out of wedlock with a bastard sired by the Kingslayer wasn’t as bad a situation as it sounded like.

When they reached her chambers she opened the door to allow Selwyn to enter but when Hayden moved to come in Brienne simply turned on her heel, gave him a look that screamed not to try her at that very moment and shut the door in his face, bolting it for good measure.

She didn’t need Hayden Flatsun nor any other member of her father's guards to see her being chastised by her father.

Once the two of them were safely inside her chambers away from prying eyes Brienne ran her hands over her face, fighting against the weariness this day had forced on her and a strong need to just collapse on her mattress and sleep for a thousand years. 

Her chambers in Kingslanding were smaller and less elegant than the ones she had in Winterfell with only a bed and a stand beside it. No fireplace to keep out the chill, no pleasant view of vast snowy fields, just a plain apartment that did its job.

It was also what felt like a whole mile of hallways away from the small council chambers and, try as she may, she couldn’t deny the fact that the pregnancy was beginning to take a toll on her athleticism. She walked over to the stand by her bed to grab the pitcher of water that she had flavored with Dornish lemons and sugar when she spotted a small bowl of blueberries that hadn’t been there this morning sitting next to the pitcher along with a small crudely drawn lion on a scrap of parchment that looked more like an ugly misshapen man with scraggly hair than the noble king of beasts. 

The faintest smile crossed her lips as her long calloused finger stroked the lion that an ignorant eye might have assumed was a child’s drawing. But before Brienne could become too sentimental about such things, her father’s hard unapologetic voice rang out behind her.

“You pledged our men to a tyrant.”

Brienne flinched at his words, not so much the harshness but the disappointment bubbling just below the iron in his tone. She turned back around to face him and she immediately dropped her eyes to the stone floor, hardly able to stand the shame in his.

_ How in the Seven Hell’s am I going to be able to tell him about the pregnancy? _

She took a shaky breath. “Father, she was going to execute you.”

“If she calls our banners when the eventual rebellion happens,” Selwyn snapped as if that fact was no more than a pesky bit of information one might share in a tavern, “you or I will have to lead our men, good Tarth men, to their deaths fighting for a monarch who burns people alive. Not to mention you blatantly disobeyed me when you swore that oath and then you became part of a lie told to a Queen.”

Words from a lifetime ago said in a hot bath by a man riddled with sickness and fever came to the forefront of her whirling mind.

_ Defend the king, obey the king, obey your father, protect the innocent, defend the weak. But what if your father despises the king? What if the king massacres the innocent? It's too much. _

Brienne lifted her gaze from the floor to look at him. “You would have been killed. You nearly cost us Tarth,” she argued. “You almost lost our home to her, you don’t think the men would be upset about those particulars as well?”

“They would have known my life and Tarth was lost due to honor.”

“And they will know that I swore an oath to the Dragon Queen to save my father's life.” Sapphires met sapphires. “As he would have done for me.”

Brienne was relieved to see Selwyn’s eyes soften some and she found she was able to breathe a little easier. He sighed, and as she looked at the weariness in his face and saw him slump more than he ever had under the weight of his armor, she realized just how far along in years her father was and it terrified her.

He spoke gentler to her now. “I didn’t want you to set aside your honor or our men for me.” 

“I would pray to all the Gods for Tarth and all its men to sink beneath the waves if it meant saving you.”

Selwyn gifted Brienne a soft, sad smile. “This wasn’t exactly how I pictures our reunion going.”

The rare use of his smile put her at ease and Brienne replied in kind. “I know.”

His smile lingered for a moment before he headed over to her stand and poured himself a glass of the flavored water along with taking a small handful of the blueberries Jaime had left her . “Truth be told, I wasn’t expecting any reunion in the near future.” He took a sip, puckering his lips at the sweet bitterness of the drink. “Last I knew you were in Winterfell requesting Maester Waldons assistance because you fought an army of the dead and before that, the only word I’d received from you was that the ransom I offered House Bolton for your safe return was no longer required.”

Brienne knew her father was not one for games that played on her guilt, and if he had a problem with her lack of letters detailing her coming and goings throughout the years he would be frank and tell her as such rather than just reminisce about the facts.

But even still, her eyes shifted guiltily. “I apologize for not keeping in touch over the years,” she muttered, embarrassed. “It was unworthy of me.”

He shook his head. “You’re a grown woman and a warrior of great renown at that.” Selwyn thankfully ignored the red burst on her cheeks at the compliment. “There’s no obligation to inform me of your every coming and going. Had you needed me I’m sure you would have written and I to you. Still; I suspect there’s a reason why none of the other Stormlords received a summons to come bend the knee, less one that happened to mention that my only heir was in Kingslanding. I have a strong suspicion that somehow the Kingslayer is involved as well.”

Despite her own self calling him that label as of late as well as Sansa and Pod, it heckled her more than she thought it would to hear her father use that disparaging nickname. “What caused all this ire was I stood for him in a trial by combat against the Queens unsullied commander and won and she wants revenge on me and planned to murder you to get it.”

“Wait, you… you offered to fight in a trial by combat against the unsullied commander for the Kingslayer? Knowing it would upset the Queen?”

“She was forcing him to fight for a crime he had been pardoned for,” she explained. “I had to, it wasn’t right he was on trial again. Plus Ser Jaime and I… we’ve been through quite a bit together.”

_ That was quite the understatement _ .

She avoided her father's eyes. No matter how old she would grow, no matter how much life experience she had, Brienne still couldn’t shake the feeling that he could read her every thought and knew what was hidden behind every subtle movement on her plain face. 

“You have, have you?” His expression was cold and stoic. “Last I heard, he was your prisoner.”

“He was. But we’ve grown since then, he saved my life.” She fought against the shy smile she wanted to wear. “More than once. He armed me so I was able to help Lady Sansa and keep my oath to Catelyn Stark, he lost his hand defending my honor, he jumped into a bear pit one handed for me, we saved one another during the battle for Winterfell…” Brienne drew her bottom lip into her teeth. “He even knighted me.”

Selwyn’s eyes went wide with disbelief. “He-... you- you’re a knight?”

She nodded, unable to help the blush that creeped up into her cheeks as she watched her father's face beam with a pride she never thought she would be able to give him. For a moment she swore she saw tears gather in the corner of his eyes. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he breathed, his eyes blinking rapidly, a trait Jaime told her she also did when she was brimming with emotions as he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her, stroking her pale blonde hair like he had done when she was a child.

“You deserve this, Ser,” Selwyn whispered, fighting back his tears. “More than anyone I know.”

Tears instantly flew to her eyes when her new title fell from his lips and she choked back a sob. She embraced her father, resting her head on his shoulder. He was overwhelmed with pride to the point he had been forced to bite back tears for something he knew Brienne wanted and deserved and fought her whole life for, something he thought she would never be able to have that Jaime Lannister of all people gave her.

And now she was about to tell him she dishonored herself and had a bastard in her belly to show for it.

Brienne forced herself to take a step away from him, boring holes into the ground, unable to look at her father who was full to bursting with pride and honor and every other thing she had dreamed about being able to give him since she was old enough to understand the concept of a legacy.

“My daughter, the first lady knight of the Seven Kingdoms.” His grin grew even wider. “I’ll have to get you proper armor, not this cheap bit of rust.” Selwyn’s eyes looked over the armor carefully for the first time. “This is far too big in the shoulders and the breastplate is sticking out too far, you can’t feel it jostle around when you move?”

“No, no it’s… I have armor.” She swallowed hard. “Ser Jaime gave it to me.”

Not wanting to see the judgement or confusion in his eyes Brienne walked over to the chest where she stored the cobalt colored armor, the pain in her heart still too raw to wear it (not to mention while it allowed for some movement she knew that in a few weeks she wouldn’t be able to wear it anyway thanks to her increasing size.)

She hadn’t even wanted to wear Oathkeeper but if her father’s life had been at stake, she would not risk it on a sub-par northern sword.

“He had it made for me,” she explained wringing her hands together. “As a gift, to help find Lady Sansa.”

Selwyn raised a pale blonde eyebrow at the gift Jaime gave her, knowing enough about armor to know this had not been cheap or mass produced by a sub-par blacksmith. “This is quite the armor…” He ran his fingers over one of the studded bits on her mail before he looked back at Brienne and his eyes fell on her scabbard and the hilt of her sword for the first time. “I take it the sword with the golden lion on the pummel and the Lannister red scabbard was the Kingslayer’s doing as well?”

Brienne wanted to shrink down to two inches tall when she heard the accusation in his tone but she forced herself to instead just nod before she unsheathed Oathkeeper and held it out so that he could see just how meaningful it really was. 

“Valerian steel,” he breathed, big blue eyes going as wide as dinner plates. “He gave this to you?” he asked, unable to look away from the weapon.

“He did. It’s called Oathkeeper.” Another deep breath. “He has its twin, Widow's Wail.”

At that particular bit of news Selwyn managed to tear his eyes away from the beauty of Oathkeeper and looked at his daughter with a hardness she could not ever remember seeing before.

“You said you and the Kingslayer have been through ‘quite a bit’.” Brienne flinched at the steely tone. “What exactly have you and the Kingslayer  _ been through  _ together?”

Her face turned a brilliant scarlet and the heat from the blush threatened to overwhelm her. Her mouth was suddenly dry and she desperately needed a drink. Her hand was shaking so bad that she nearly spilled the water she poured from the pitcher. 

“Brienne.” His voice was as sharp as the sword he held. “Tell me the truth... Are you still a maid?”

She choked and sputtered on the sip of water she had just taken, her blushing going a darker crimson if that was possible. She stared indignant at her father. “Excuse me?”

“Are you?”

“That’s…” she shook her head, her breathing suddenly becoming a bit more labored. “That is none of your concern.”

“I am your father and the Evenstar, it is my concern.”

Why did she keep the room so bloody hot? Her too big armor was almost stifling.

“What happened to ‘you’re a grown woman’?”

His face went from steel to iron. “You’re not giving me an answer.”

Brienne closed her eyes as the room began to swirl. She had to sit down or else she was going to collapse. She stumbled slightly as she made her way to her bed and sat down, her breathing coming heavier and heavier. 

Concern flickered in Selwyn’s eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she lied. “It’s just a case of vertigo, I’m fine.”

“Take off your armor and rest a moment, it’s too big for you anyway.”

Brienne shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense, you look like you’re about to pass out.” He crossed the room and without warning began to do the cheap armors straps.

“Don’t,” she protested, pushing his hand away before he could undo them enough that her breast plate detached. “I’ll be fine, I just need to relax for a bit.”

Selwyn pulled back, his eyes furrowing at her. They flickered down to the bowl of fruit on her stand. “Blueberries...” he muttered, realization dawning on his face. “Your mother… every time, she… and the vertigo…” 

Her father looked back at his daughter, looking over her face which was fuller than he had seen it and had begun to glow…

“Brienne, take off your armor.”

Her lip trembled. “Father, I-.”

“Now.”

He didn’t yell the command but he might as well have. Choking back a sob and with hands that shook so bad she could barely undo the clasps Brienne undid her armor. She let the breast plate fell and she immediately caressed the growing bump, biting back her tears as she looked at him. Selwyn glanced down at her growing stomach, his face hard and expressionless. For a long while neither one spoke and rather just stared at the other.

“Did he force you?” he finally asked, his voice surprisingly even, looking up from her stomach to meet her eyes.

“No,” she said at once. “He would never-.”

“The two of you aren’t married?”

She shook her head.

Selwyn pursed his lips, nodding slowly. “I’ve… endured countless humiations and sneers on your behalf. The way I allowed you to dress and style your hair, the fact I allowed you to train with my master of arms, the fact I allowed you to fight a man I betrothed to you-.”

_ A knight of sixty five who promised to beat me for not wearing a dress when I was a girl of sixteen,  _ she thought bitterly but she knew better than to interrupt. “But I took it all in stride,” he continued. “I turned the other cheek because even if you are a woman there is honor in being as strong a warrior as you are. Had you looked more like your mother I might have launched a stronger protest but you made the best of your circumstances, and I admired you for that.  But now…” Selwyn shook his head and turned away. “I have a whore for a daughter.”

She flinched at the cruel insult. “It’s not- it isn’t like that. I- I loved-.”

His head snapped up at that. “Oh you love him? You love the Kingslayer, is that right?” She could feel the anger in his tone rising. “And does he love you in return?”

Brienne managed as simple an answer as she could. “I thought he did.”

“So ‘no’ then. You allowed him to use you-.”

“He didn’t-!”

“He did!” Selwyn boomed. “And now you have a bastard in your belly, a Kingslayer Lannister bastard!”

Brienne hastily wiped at the hot tears in her eyes. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, this was never how it went in her dreams.

In her dreams she was married, to Renly when she was a girl and then to Jaime. Her father would be bursting with pride when she told him that her and husband were expecting a trueborn heir and the day they were born Selwyn would present his grandchild that he loved from the moment Brienne told him about them with a marble Tarth shield with their name engraved; the same that he had commissioned for Brienne and her siblings that she still carried with her.

But instead she was sitting here with tears in her eyes and Selwyn was looking at her growing stomach that held a bastard with a mix of disgust and fury.

“Father, please,” Brienne begged with a shaking voice. “Just… just listen to me...”

Selwyn shook his head, turning his back on her and storming towards her door. “I can’t be around you right now.”

Brienne said nothing, just closed her eyes and waited for the sound of her door slamming shut before she allowed herself to sob.

 

Please Review!

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG you guys this is the first fic of mine where I had people have a legit conversation about my story in the comments. Like I’m so deeply deeply moved that my story is causing actual conversations between people and you guys love and are invested in it so much. I’d reply and comment Bc I REALLY want to talk to you guys about this fic but I hate padding the review count with author comments. But if you wanna hit me up to talk my Twitter is @LariskaPargitay and I’m always !VERY! happy to talk about anything involving my fics or Braime or Brienne or Jaime or GoT/ASOIAF… I love you and enjoy the next chapter *sends a thousand heart emojis*

“When she finds out-.”

“She won’t.”

“She will. And when she does-.”

“I didn’t ask you to help. Alright, I had to do something and lying about Tarth saved her before.”

“You lied about an islands exports to an idiot who got his rocks off watching her fight a bear. An hour ago you tried to lie to the Queen about five battles with no other details other than ‘Essos tried to attack and an island with less than 8,000 people on it held them back each time and even though you grew up in Essos you never heard of it’.” Tyrion snorted into his cup of sour peasants wine. “Cersei was right, you really are the stupidest Lannister.”

Jaime glared at his younger brother. “What was I supposed to do? Let her die trying to save her father? Let him be executed right in front of her?”

Tyrion just shrugged. “It would have solved quite a few problems you’re going to have with a  _ VERY _ large soldier who already hates you before knowing you spurted lions seed in his daughter.” The younger man brought the cup of wine he was very rarely seen without nowadays to his lips. “And who knows, she might have turned to you for some comfort over her dearly departed father. Or turn her cunt to your cock if we’re getting into specifics.”

Jaime reached across himself and snatched the goblet of wine from Tyrion, spilling the bitter purple drink down the front of his brothers black doublet.

“You’ve had enough,” snapped Jaime, slamming the cup down on his stand so hard that he felt the grass crack in his hand.

Tyrion ignored the harshness in his brother’s tone. “On the contrary, I’ve barely begun.”

“You’re getting fresh about Brienne, you’ve had enough.”

Tyrion scoffed as if he had been offended. “My dear brother, you wound me, I’m still as spoiled as three week old milk. If I REALLY wanted to be fresh, I would ask if she’s just as blonde down below as she is on top.”

He had to fight against every instinct boiling inside him not to slap Tyrion across the mouth. “Talk like that about her again...” he warned. 

“Well if you insist.”

Jaime rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Why couldn’t one of my siblings be an affectionate alcoholic?” He grumbled. “Cersei turned into the most hateful woman in the seven kingdoms and you turn into exactly what everyone thinks you are.”

Tyrion narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, almost challenging his older brother. “And please,  _ Kingslayer _ , what does everyone think I am?”

He ignored the use of the foul nickname. “A drunken little lecherous imp who can’t get drag his simple mind away from what’s between a woman’s leg.”

“Simple?” Tyrion scoffed, feigning offense. “My dear Ser I may be little, I may be lecherous, I may be the imp, I CERTAINLY am ‘drunken’ but I am anything but simple.”

“That’s what you are when you drink. A simple little imp who lives up to the low expectations his father and sister placed on him rather than the man who raised himself up and became Hand of the Queen.”

If Jaime’s words wounded him Tyrion didn’t show it. “Oh yes, quite the achievement. Hand to a Queen who burned eighty thousand people alive who doesn’t even trust me with the task of emptying her chamber pot much less trusts my counsel. Father and Cersei would be SO proud.” He pursed his lips at his brother. “Not as proud, I’m sure, as they would be of you sireing your, what's this now, fifth bastard?”

“Careful,” Jaime warned him, green eyes hardening.

Even though his drunken haze Tyrion must have sensed how dangerously close to the line where Jaime would up and hit him he was dancing. When his younger brother said nothing in response to the thread the graying lion took a deep breath. “Did you talk to Bronn?” he asked, lowering his voice so that there was little chance of the unsullied guards posted outside his door hearing.

He saw his brother take a sharp breath. “I did.”.

“And?” Jaime demanded. “Is he willing to help get her out of here?” The hesitation gave him all the answer he needed. Jaime shook his head in disgust for the cutthroat turned Lord. “He won’t help. You gave him Highgarden, and he won’t help you get Brienne out of Kingslanding.”

“No he… he said he would. He just wants-.”

“What?” Jaime snapped, having already lost any patience or affection for his former friend. “What on earth more could he POSSIBLY want?”

“Daenerys’ hand in marriage. He wants to be king,” he explained with a heavy sigh. “He says if he gets a betrothal, he’ll smuggle Brienne and the babe out to Tarth.”

“He knows that’s NEVER going to happen right? He knows that he might as well ask for every star in the sky?”

“I’m just telling you his terms.”

Jaime buried his face in his hand. “She’s going to kill her. Daenerys is going to kill her, Tyrion,” he said again, raising his voice while tears danced on the edge of his tone. “She’s going to kill her, and I can’t protect her. I can’t protect Brienne, I can’t protect the baby inside her, I couldn’t protect my Joffrey or Tommen or Myrcella, I couldn’t protect Cersei, I couldn’t protect my father...” Jaime looked up from his floor and turned toward his brother who, to his credit, wore a look of guilt on his features. Rather it was for the mention of Tywin or the fact his promise to get Bronn to smuggle Brienne our had fell through he couldn’t be sure. 

Pain flooded Jaime’s emerald eyes. “What good is loving someone if you can’t protect them?”

“I will get her out,” Tyrion said with a conviction that Jaime almost,  _ almost _ , believed the shorter man. “I promise you. Your child and your Lady Knight WILL live, Jaime. I swear it on the Old Gods and the New.”

Jaime said nothing just stood up from his bed, weariness and age and pain and a too hard past evident on his face and crushing him from the inside out.

“I’m going to get some rest,” said Jaime, a not so subtle way of asking to be left alone for a while. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

The turn of the heavy conversation have sobered the younger lion up a fair degree and he nodded. “Of course. I’ll try speaking to Bronn again, see if I can appeal to his human side, see if there’s something else I can give him that would make him help.”

The thought made Jaime snicker. If the cutthroat had his heart set on a Dragon, there was nothing sweeter that Tyrion could offer.

Unless….

Jaime pursed his lips for a moment, letting the idea whirl around in his mind for a moment. Brienne would hate it to the point she would hate Jaime for thinking it much less suggesting it out loud. Truth be told Jaime was loathe to speak it out loud himself but if it kept her and their child safe…

“Tyrion,” he muttered, eyes wide. “I… might have an idea to get Bronn’s assistance…”

Before he could vocalize the idea however as if by a hurricanes, the door to Jaime’s meager chambers slammed open, making both lions jump and turn towards what had caused the door to open with such force.

“I can’t be sure but I think he knows,” Tyrion muttered to Jaime as they looked upon a furious looking Selwyn flanked by his guards. 

Jaime flinched and slunk back from the large man not out of fear, but his sapphire eyes reminded him far too much of Brienne’s and the way they were full of hate and anger and disgust pained him to the point Jaime had to turn away from them. 

“Lord Tyrion.” His deep voice was shaking with fury and it came out a snarl. “If you would be so kind as to give me a moment alone with your brother.”

“Of course, Lord Selwyn,” Tyrion said at once. “I need to speak to the Queen in any case.” 

He spared Jaime a look and shrugged as if to say he earned whatever pain the tall lord was about to inflict on him and walked out of the small cramped room.

“Hayden,” Selwyn said without turning from Jaime. “Take the rest of the guards and go get settled in. It’s been a long journey, I’m sure you and your men need to rest.”

Hayden gave the Evenstar a polite nod. “Of course, My Lord.” 

Jaime raised a brow at the tone the guard spoke with. He had been around Lannister bannermen and eager knights looking for praise from him and his father more than enough to know what it sounded like when someone’s tongue had been worn down to a nub by all the ass licking they did. 

He just never heard it in such an obvious manner.

Hayden walked over to the lord and whispered something to the Lord soft enough where Jaime couldn’t make out the guards word but Selwyn had such a deep voice that even his whisper might as well have been shouted.

“Aileen too,” Selwyn mumbled to his guard who just gave a curt nod and walked away with the other three guards, shutting the door behind them.

Once they were alone Jaime suddenly felt a nervousness that he hadn’t felt since he was alone with his own stern father when he was a child. Selwyn stared at him so intently that it made him turn away and choose to stare at the scratched and water damaged floor rather than meet his eyes.

_ Why did they have to have the same damned eyes? _

“Do you know?” Selwyn finally asked, his voice as sharp as Valerian steel. “Has she told you?”

“A month ago,” he answered, already knowing exactly what he was referring too. Then, he added, “the maester said she’s around 15 weeks.”

Jaime saw the wheels working in his mind. “Fifteen weeks… So after the long night in the North, you had a case of battle lust and decided my daughter would be the perfect target.”

“It wasn’t like that.” He would not allow this man to think he thought of Brienne as nothing more than a place to shove his cock in after he beat death. “It…  I care about her, My Lord. Very much ” he said, as plain and as simple an answer as he could give.”

“You claim to care about her and yet you dishonored her, you put a bastard in her belly, and worst of all you gave her the illusion that you loved her.”

Selwyn might as well have plunged a dagger into his chest, only that would have hurt less. 

_ She thinks I don’t love her… _

The thought was enough to make him weep. Brienne didn’t think he loved her, she thinks he didn’t care about her, she thinks she doesn’t share that spot in his heart that only one other woman had ever possessed before he met her…

Selwyn took his silence for agreement and regarded him as cold as a Northern winter. “Any woman of ill regard would claw their eyes out for a chance to lay with a lion.” He eyed his stump distastefully. “Even a crippled one. You had your pick of any woman in the Seven Kingdoms yet you choose my daughter to be your whore.”

Jaime snapped his head up finally, narrowing his eyes in hatred for the man standing before him. 

Had he not been Brienne's father he would have cuffed him. “Don’t call her that again,” he warned. “Or you and I are going to have more than a conversation.”

Selwyn’s cheeks flushed red with anger. “Don’t you dare threaten me, Kingslayer.”

“I’ll threaten any man who insults Brienne as often as I please,” Jaime said with a command in his voice he thought was long gone. “She isn’t a whore, she’s a knight and the most honorable woman in this whole bloody country.”

“She was until you dishonored her!” Selwyn barked. “You took her maidenhood and got her pregnant out of wedlock for what? A chance to brag to your mates that you managed to bag ‘Brienne the beauty’.”

_ I hit my own brother for disparaging your daughter, you idiot. _

“I never ONCE discussed what happened between us to anyone,” Jaime argued. “I respect Brienne more than anyone alive, I wouldn’t insult her like that.”

“I know how easy lies come to you but TRY to tell the truth just once, Kingslayer! You used her for a place to stick your cock and then ran off the moment the war was over.”!

“I didn’t-!”

“Do you realize the mockery she’s going to deal with when word gets out that she’s pregnant with a bastard sired by the Kingslayer?” he snapped, not caring for his protests. “I already endear countless sneers and snickers from other lords for the freedoms I’ve granted her, people think less of me as well as my House because of it. But I take it in stride because I know she was born to swing a sword rather than wear a gown and she fights and composes herself with honor more than any other knight I’ve met in all my years. But this humiliation… it won’t be something she, I or our House will be able to recover from.”

Jaime took a deep breath, trying his best to soothe his anger. “I never planned for this to happen. I didn’t mean to dishonor her or you or Tarth.”

“No you just wanted the chance to brag about being able to claim that you took her maidenhood. I love Brienne, I would kill for her, but I’m not blind to her physical misfortunes. I know how people, especially noble men, view her and I pray to the Seven every night for her sake that she wake up one day and look as beautiful as a noble woman should look.”

_ Then I shall pray she stays the same. _

Brienne was not beautiful in the traditional sense, Jaime knew that, but what she was was a thousand times better than comely feminine features and a womanly shape. 

She was kind and honorable and just and intelligent and innocent. Her eyes were big and blue and beautiful and he could stare at them for hours, her lips were big and soft and Jaime was sure that the Gods had designed them with his lips kissing them in mind. Her pale white skin was soft and creamy, her deep highborn voice crying out his name was music to his ears and Jaime could spend the rest of his life between her thighs licking at her gorgeous pink cunt that only he had the privilege of being inside and he would die a happy man. 

She had muscles, prominent muscles that other highborn ladies never possessed, that held a warriors strength and power but her touch could be gentle and tender as any maid. 

Jaime would take Brienne with all her physical ‘misfortunes’ over her looking like what highborn society wanted a lady to look like every day.

“I have resigned myself to knowing that my daughter will never be more than a conquest or a chance for a lordship,” Selwyn continued. “But that doesn’t mean I have to be happy that an oathbreaker was the one who snatched away my daughter's honor or dignity and turned her into nothing more than a whore who prefers lords pay her wages rather than peasants.”

Jaime searched over Selwyn’s hard face for a moment, and a heated realization hit him. 

“You really think that don’t you? You truly think that’s all any man will be able to see her as, a trophy for a juvenile conquest or an heir to your sapphire isle,” he said, disgusted. “You don’t believe a man could truly want her, you think the only way someone would have her is one blinded by battle lust and would take any wet cunt that would have him.”

Selwyn’s hand gripped the hilt of his sapphire laden sword. “Careful, Kingslayer… 

He continued without fear of the threat. “That’s why your last betrayal you tried to arrange was a man of sixty five who swore to  _ beat her _ if she wore her armor when she was just a girl. You don’t think anyone could find her worthy of love and you thought some disgusting old man would be the only one willing to have her.”

To Selwyn’s credit, a flash of guilt frittered across his pale face.

“How do you know about that?” he demanded, ignoring the accusation.

“Brienne told me,” Jaime said, glad he had been given a chance to prove him wrong about the fact she had just been a night of passion. “We were together for a month before I… before I left,” he finished with a mutter, guilt replacing his smugness. “We know one another better than anyone. I know about Red Ronnet and the rose, she knows about my standing by while Aerys burned the Stark men alive, I know why she was so infatuated with Renly Baratheon, she knows about mine and Cersei’s relationship.” Jaime turned away again when Selwyns eyes narrowed in disgust, reminding him far too much of Brienne. “Believe it or not, I wanted to be with her because I love her, I love EVERYTHING about her. Think what you will of her, think what you will of  _ me,  _ but it’s the truth.”

Jaime almost could have sworn that he saw Selwyn’s hard face softened at his admission. But the next moment he was looking him with a spiteful contempt.

“The word of an oathbreaker is meaningless.” Jaime made no attempt to hide him rolling his eyes. “That’s why I will not compel her to marry the man who dishonored her. Had you been a footsoldier or whore monger or even another Lannister I would have considered the possibility, but even if she’s dishonored, she still has more dignity than to be stuck the wife of the Kingslayer.”

_ She wouldn’t be stuck, she would be happy. Or she would have been before I missed it up. _

Jaime had considered the prospect of marrying Brienne more than once, even while they were in Winterfell together happy and at peace with life before he knew about the baby. He dreamt of himself fashioning a crimson cloak around her shoulders while they stood in the sept near Casterly Rock. She would look stunning in a dress of red and gold and azure and rose, with lions and sun bursts and crescent moons details and he wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes off her nor would he want to.

All those dreams had been dashed though when he rode off and left her in tears at the Winterfell gate.

Then when she told him about the pregnancy he considered it, for a moment. Even with her belly soft and swollen with his child she would still look as soft and gorgeous as a sunset, even more so if Jaime was being honest with himself. Their child would have his family name, she would be his lioness and he would be her Evenstar. She would be his and he would be hers, from that day until their last.

But she refused him because of her heartache and anger at him, breaking his heart into rubble when she said she had no intentions of marrying him, of raising their child together. It would be a Storm, not a Lannister and spend months away from Jaime at Tarth with its mother. 

The three of them would never be a family, no matter how much Jaime dreamt it. 

But he could have made her happy. He know he could have. He would have made sure Brienne wore that rare smile at least once a day, he would have respected her as a knight and treated her like a lady, he would have made her feel beautiful and adored and loved, just like she deserved.

“I saved your life,” Jaime argued. “And I spared your daughter from having to watch her father be burned alive in front of her. You don’t think I deserve a little benefit of the doubt that I’m a halfway decent person who genuinely cares for her?”

Selwyn narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. “I’m grateful for your lies, for Brienne’s sake and her sake alone.” He leaned in closer, his hand clenching the blue hilt of his sword. “And it’s for her sake that I haven’t cut in half with Moonbright yet. But keep it up, Kingslayer, and I promise you not even my love and affection for her will be enough to stay my sword.”

Jaime glared, perhaps dimwittedly so, back at the large tall Lord. “I was just about to say the same thing to you.”

The two men held each other’s cold stare for a long moment, before Selwyn broke the look and turned away, storming from the room without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please Review! Next chapter I promise to get more into what’s going on with the politics and Dany and Jon and Sansa, as well as the scarred Dothraki who has an dishonorable eye for Jaime’s wench


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Politics is so much harder to write then romance omg. Like I couldn’t even really get the correct song in my music library to get me in the mood. Also this is my first time writing Daenerys, so I hope that I didn’t disappoint any of her fans. Anyway, I really hope y’all like enjoy and don’t think it sucks lol

Daenerys walked down the long echoing hallway towards the tower of the hand which had been rebranded for her small counsel chambers, flanked, as always, by her unsullied guards Rats Eye, Black Ant and Grim Frog, strong and sullen soldiers who spoke little but who the Queen knew would protect her from her enemies no matter the cost.

She also had her Dothraki Bloodriders; Qualo, Kuvo and then Raeko, who had been Bloodrider to the bloodthirsty Khal Lahso.

Apart from Drogo, Raeko’s braid was the longest that Daenerys had ever seen on a Screamer, the dark hair reaching more than halfway down his back and growing every day. He was strong and fierce with powerful large muscles rippling beneath smooth copper skin, standing a foot and a half taller than the Dragon Queen with a body as thick and broad as castle walls.

His otherwise handsome face was marred with an ugly deep scar that ran from his brown almond eye down the length of his right cheek and stopping at the center of his square jaw, earned from trying to mount a Lhazareen woman who unbeknownst to him had a dagger hidden beneath her woolen skirt. Afterwards he made sure the lamb girl could never use her hands again for anything much less wielding a knife.

He carried an impossibly sharp akrah that hung in his horse hair belt and despite his size could ride as swift and well as any Dothraki, choosing a large mammoth of a dusty midnight colored plow horse he simply called ‘Black’ for his mount.

Raeko was set to become Khal after Lahso. He had been praised and prized by his khalasar for his fighting skills as well as his cruelty towards those the Horse Lords felt it was their lessers, the fairer sex very much included. But instead, like the rest of his copper skinned kin, he saw Daenerys emerge from the flames untouched the night of the great fire at Vaes Dothrak and soon after pledged himself to the silver haired Queen, promising to fight her enemies in their stone castles and promising to tear down their seven false Gods. He fought bravely during the long night, then in Kingslanding for his Khaleesi, afterwards taking his war spoils in the form of several milky skinned women.

He has also been promoted from ‘footsoldier’ as the pale short haired men called him, to being Blood of her Blood. Which was why Raeko was walking proudly beside her now, keeping a sharp lookout for any who might harm her.

Daenerys strode into the grand historic room and made her way to the head of the long table, ignoring the scrapes of chairs as the men all stood, waiting until she sat before they returned to their seats, Raeko taking his spot besides Greyworm and regarding the Westerosi on the other side with a sneer before settling back in his chair.

The dragon looked over the small group of men who had pledged themselves to counseling her.

She had no Lord Commander of the Queensguard, nor an official Queensguard at all. She refused when it was suggested to her, she would not have those traitors and oath breakers guarding her, not when one might stab her in the back the first chance they got. She was fine with her Unsullied and Bloodriders protecting her, trusting them far more than any Westerosi knight, but she had made Raeko the head of her guard and sat him on the counsel, even if he didn’t understand the Common Tongue save for a few select words (and all the profanities.) 

Greyworm, her Master of War, had healed enough there was only a small limp when he walked. It had slowed him down some in the training yard but his military mind was as sharp as his spear and was sitting to her immediate left. Her Master of Ships Yara was back on the Iron Islands rebuilding her destroyed fleet.

Not  _ her _ destroyed fleet,  _ Daenerys’ _ destroyed fleet.

 

_ She wouldn’t take them from me, she pledged that the Iron Fleet was mine. _

 

**She lied. She’s rebuilding to launch an assault against you.**

 

_ She wouldn’t. She’s loyal, she fought her uncle for me. _

 

**She’ll use those ships to attack Kingslanding, she can’t be trusted.**

 

Daenerys’ closed her eyes and shook the bitter warring thoughts away. Yara WAS loyal. She was rebuilding the fleet so that Daenerys could control it. That was all. The silver haired dragon composed herself and turned towards her Master of Law, the short dark haired man who had pledged his armies, guidance and heart to the silver haired dragon.

Now all that remained of his oath were his armies. During the counsel meetings Jon Snow barely spoke and when he did it was in short muttered sentences that barely reached her ears. Other than that he did not share his gaze or his heart or his bed even though she had yearned for all of those more than she thought she could after Drogo.

 

**He’s going to betray you.**

 

_ He won’t. _

 

 **He will.** **He hates you. He’ll take your crown and your throne.  He’ll kill you if you give him the chance.**

 

_ He won’t. Jon’s honorable, he swore he doesn’t want the throne. He loves me,  _

 

**Loved.**

 

“Lord Jon,” she said quickly in order to silence her thoughts. Jon barely lifted his head up, a small acknowledgment he had heard her. “How goes the trials of the remaining Lannister men?”

“As well as can be expected, Your Grace,” the black haired man muttered still staring down at the scratched and stained wood of the old table. “We are treating them fairly.”

 

**He means he’s letting them go free.**

 

Daenerys’ regarded him frigidly. “These men fought for Cersei Lannister,” she replied, her answer sharp as ice. “They fought against their rightful Queen.”

“They were soldiers who followed orders,” Jon protested weakly.

“The law states that orders that would bring dishonor on a soldier are not to be given nor followed if they are. They fought for a tyrant. They will be judged accordingly or I will find another Master of Laws to conduct their trials.”

She watched Jon carefully. His brown eyes she once found so warm and inviting now just stared down as lifeless as the dead men they had fought in Winterfell.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Your Grace. Not ‘my Queen’, but ‘Your Grace’, a formal title spoken with all the warmth of the snows of Winterfell rather than with the kindness and love Jon used to shower her with.

Daenerys’ slid her mask she had grown accustomed to wearing these last few weeks on over her heartache, looking down her nose at the man who never bothered to even meet her eyes, a brooding man without passion, not even the passion of hatred, for his Queen.

Not his Queen. She was ‘Your Grace’ to him now.

 

**He’s plotting**

 

_ He isn't. _

 

**He is. He’s plotting to overthrow you. He’s freeing Lannister men because he hates what you did, he’s going to steal your throne.**

 

Daenerys didn’t take her eyes away from Jon as she spoke her next words to Greyworm.

 

**Trust Greyworm. Only Greyworm. The rest are plotting.**

 

“Have we heard any rumors of the northerners mobilizing against us?”

“No, My Queen,” the unsullied commander spoke, hard and fierce, not a lick of joy to be found. Not since Missandei... “As long as Sansa is your hostage, the North will not rise up against us.”

Daenerys was delighted to see fear flicker in Jon’s eyes at the mention of his sister. 

 

**Good. Let him be scared. Let him know what happens when you plot against your Queen.**

 

The momentary thrill she had seeing her former love terrified crashed to the ground almost as soon as it had risen.

 

_ Jon isn’t plotting! You’re making him scared for nothing! Stop it, stop it! Just leave him alone! _

 

“Cersei Lannister had her as a hostage and Robb Stark nearly had them beat until Tywin convinced a withered old man to murder him under his roof,” Daenerys reminisced, avoiding the painful look in Jon’s eyes.

“The Northmen also had a reason to go to war, it wasn’t just to save Sansa despite what Lady Catelyn thought,” Tyrion muttered from her right hand side without gazing at her.

His counsels with the Queen ended up sharing a nearly identical story to Jon’s. He sat there, barely talking, barely offering advice, hardly able to lift his head up… Only Tyrion was guilty of the extra sin of often times showing up drunk and the rare times he did try to counsel her he was barely able to form coherent sentences that didn’t end in abuses towards his fellow council members.

“You have nothing to fear from the North so long as Lady Stark and Jon Snow remain safe.” A beat, a deep breath he tried to hide and then, “ Lady Starks sworn sword. She needs to be protected as well.”

 

**He’s siding with his brother and the Tarth woman. The three of them, they all want to see you and your only friend left in the world overthrown and beheaded.**

 

“I didn’t realize Isle Tarth and the North were such strong allies,” snarled Daenerys. Fire and blood sung deep in her words. “Why would Lady Brienne’s protection be paramount for a subdued North?”

“She’s Lady Stark’s sworn sword,” Tyrion argued. “She saved her from the Bolton’s, she’s her closest confidant and at times her only friend.” He glanced up from the table, meeting her eyes for the first time in days. “You rained down fire and blood on the person who took your Brienne from you. Sansa would do the same.”

Daenerys swallowed hard, letting a sliver of pain shine through at the mention of her fallen adviser. Beside her she saw Greyworm clench his fist around the arm of the wooden chair and narrow his brown eyes at the lion seated across the table 

“Last I checked wolves didn’t breathe fire,” the unsullied commander growled.

“No but they do have teeth and claws and Lady Stark will bear them both if you touch the Evenstars daughter.”

“As will your brother?”

She saw him shift uncomfortably in his chair as the conversation turned towards the maimed lion.

 

**Good. Let him squirm in the heat of dragon fire.**

  
  


”Whatever relationship my brother and the Lady Knight has is over, Your Grace,” said Tyrion. “She does not forgive him for abandoning her and he made it quite clear he only has room in his heart for our sister.”

 

**Lies!**

 

“Then why did he jump to her father's defense? “ the queen demanded. “Why did she offer to fight in the Kingslayers stead?”

“Because Brienne of Tarth is an honorable woman who didn’t want to see someone she thought she cared for perish in dragon fire and Jaime Lannister is an idiot.”

“Honorable woman do not lie and cheat during trials!”

“No but they do allow the loser to yield.” The little lion was gaining its courage back. Spurred on by wine and talks of the demise of his brother, he met her gaze head on. “Greyworm would be dead if not for her honor.”

“And the Kingslayer would finally be dead at my hand if not for her tricks!” The look in her eyes challenged the dwarf, daring him to argue with the Queen. “The Lady Brienne and the Evenstar will be treated as any highborn whose loyalties have come into deep and valid questioning would be treated.”

Tyrion regarded the Queen for a moment. “Ser Brienne is nothing if not loyal,” he finally settled on, earning more of Daenerys’ ire but she ignored it for the time being.

 

**I knew she was plotting. Her, the Kingslayer, Tyrion, probably the Lord if Tarth as well... They’re all plotting my downfall, they want my death!**

 

_ The Lady Brienne loves The Kingslayer and her father, I would fight for Jon. I would have fought for Drogo. I would have fought for my father... _

 

**I will crush them all!**

 

_ You told her once in Winterfell how you admired her honor. She spared Greyworm. _

 

**She tricked him! She, her crippled lion, my hand, the Evenstar, they all want to see me fall! I will make them all pay! I will burn th-!**

 

“NO!”

She pretended the look that Jon gave her after her desperate outburst was one of concern rather than worry and fear. 

The Dragon Queen did what she had to do to Kingslanding. She had killed tens of thousands so that hundreds of thousands might live and be freed from a tyrants grip. But she would not allow herself to think  _ that.  _ Not  _ that _ phrase, not now, not ever…

She took a deep breath, making her expression as blank as she could. If any of her counsel found her random cry of a protest odd they did not seem fit to mention it.

“I am done talking of the Tarth woman and the Kingslayer,” she announced in a voice that she couldn’t hide its trembles. “There are more pressing matters at hand.” She leaned back in her tall wooden seat, reaching out for the pitcher of wine in front of her and pouring herself a cup mainly to settle her uneasy stomach but also to possibly quiet the warring thoughts inside her mind. After taking a long deep drink from the goblet she turned back to Tyrion who had taken his previous stance back up of staring at the table and not lifting his head. 

“How goes it finding a Master of Whispers and a Master of Coin?

“No such luck on the Whispers, Your Grace,” Tyrion muttered. “But… Ser Bronn, I believe, may be a solid choice for Master of Coin.”

“Has he any experience with sums or debts or gold?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“Then what could possibly make you think believe he’s capable of being in charge of an entire realms finances?”

“Because often times men who grow up without gold have the greatest respect for it.”

 

**He’s trying to stack your counsel with men loyal to him.**

 

_ He has a point though. _

 

**You can get another poor man. Don’t let a cutthroat loyal to someone who wants to take you down on your counsel. The Onion Knight.**

 

“Ser Davos.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“Ser Davos,” she repeated. “He was Hand of the King when Stannis vied for the throne, he is an honorable man, an honorable fighter, and he grew up in Flea Bottom so he would have as much respect for Gold as any other poor man. Ser Davos Seaworth shall be my Master of Coin.”

Daenerys waited for an argument, a debate, anything to prove this had been a bad choice  but Tyrion, for the first time, looked rather pleased with her decision.

 

**You made a mistake. If Tyrion is pleased…**

 

Daenerys quieted the debate with another sip of wine before she turned towards Raeko who had been silent up until now, sporting a bored look on his mutilated face. 

“Raeko, Blood of My Blood, any news?” she spoke to the horselord in his native language. The Dothraki words were harsh and guttural on her tongue but she spoke it with an ease that fit her like a second skin.

Not to mention she felt better discussing potential threats against her persons in a language most Westerosi, including the two sitting opposite her Bloodrider couldn’t be bothered to learn.

The Dothraki shook his head, the bells he had braided into his hair jingling softly. “No, Blood of My Blood,” he answered as he turned to look at her. “There have been no threats, Khaleesi.” He pursed his large brown lips for a moment as if debating continuing.

“What is it?” she asked, eyebrows pressed together. “Raeko?”

“The Sun Daughter’s father. I don’t like the look of him. I don’t trust him.”

‘Sun Daughter’, Shekh Nayat, a nickname the Dothraki had branded Brienne for both the sunbursts on her sigil as well as a cruel play on words about the fact she looked like both a ‘son’ and daughter.

“I don’t either, Blood of My Blood,” she admitted. “But his daughter swore she wouldn’t raise her men in iron suits against us.”

“Never trust anything with tits, even meager ones like the Sun Daughters.” 

Daenerys let the insult against her gender slide off her back. Dothraki screamers did not like or trust women, Raeko chief among them, and no amount of eye rolls from Daenerys or sharply barked words would change them.

They wouldn’t have trusted the Queen either but to the Horse Lord’s she was no woman. She was their Khal of Khals who just happened to lack a cock, they would never harm her or insult her directly.

Her sex as a whole however…

“Khal Lahso,” he slapped a fist against his chest in remembrance of his fallen Khal. “Used to take daughters of Lamb Men and wives of the great Masters as payment to teach respect if they took up arms against us.”

“Westeros has a similar custom but the Sun Daughter is already here in King's Landing. She’s my hostage in all but name.”

She saw his eyes glint in amusement and she heard muffled snickers from her other two Bloodriders. She had a sickening feeling she had misinterpreted what Raeko was saying. “No, Khaleesi. He would  _ take  _ them... My Khal was generous, he would often share the lamb daughters and masters daughters with us after he was done. I could mount the Sun Daughter, to teach her father respect.”

“You might as well be fucking a dog,” Qualo said, shuddering in disgust.

Kuvo nodded in agreement. “The Sun Daughter is an ugly beast. Give me the wolf bitch instead.”

“More for me then. I’ve never fucked a woman with pussy hair as pale as hers must be.”

“You will NOT be mounting the wolf OR the sun!” Daenerys barked as loud as she could manage, earning stares from Jon and Tyrion, both of them looking confused and rather apprehensive about the shouted foreign language that ripped past the Queens lips.

Daenerys glared at the silent Raeko and her other Bloodriders, none of the horse lords having the grace to look ashamed. “You forget yourself, Blood of My Blood! You will not mount either of them unless you mean to take them as wives!”

“The horse does not mate with the sun or the wolf,” Qualo grumbled. 

“Then you will not touch them!”

The three riders all grumbled their agreement to her orders. Daenerys took a breath to calm the heat in her blood and turned back to address the rest of her counsel, missing the look between Raeko and his fellow horse lords. “Any other news from the realm?”

“We need to start sending builders to the rest of Kingslanding, not just the Red Keep,” Tyrion said. “Half the cities population are sleeping in the streets. There’s also the issue of the remaining members of the City Watch being unable to handle all of the new discourse dawned by the battle.”

Daenerys ignored the not-so-subtle insult for the time being. “I will set my Unsullied to patrolling the streets alongside the City Watch and I will bring in builders from around the realm to assist with the rebuild of Kingslanding. Is that all?”

When Tyrion announced that it was Daenerys gave them all a curt nod and stood, her counsel following. Raeko stepped back into his position as her guard. 

“If there are any more matters that require my attention do not hesitate to let me know.”

Tyrion muttered a weak muttered promise that he would. 

Greyworm gave a curt fierce nod of agreement. 

Jon said nothing.

They all gave their small bows as Daenerys left the room, flanked by her unsullied and Bloodriders. On her way back to her chambers she passed by Brienne.

“Your Grace,” the knight muttered, stepping to the side of the hall to allow the small group to pass and bowing her head out of respect.

As Daenerys walked by her she noticed her big blue eyes were red and raw, like she had been in tears.

 

**She is following me. She knew I would be here.**

 

_ She’s on her way to the Kingslayers apartment, that’s all. We share the same route. _

 

**She wanted to catch me off guard. She’s stalking me, she’s letting me know she knows my whereabouts.**

 

_ She’s been crying, probably over something to do with her father, she’s just going to the Kingslayer for comfort. _

 

As the internal debates raged on as she walked down the hall, Daenerys missed the way Raeko’s brown eyes feasted on the tall knight, his promise to his Khaleesi not to touch the blushing Lady Knight already well forgotten.

 

Please Review! 

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

As soon as her tears had ceased Brienne began the trek towards Jaime’s chamber. It had taken a moment but eventually the blonde knight put her uncomfortably large armor back on, strapped Oathkeeper to her side and made her way to Jaime’s apartment, passing by the Queen and her guard on the way by happenstance. 

“Your Grace,” Brienne muttered as she stepped out of the way to allow the lot of them to pass, bowing her head out of respect as well as to hide the evidence of her tears.

She caught a glance of Daenerys looking at her, far too many emotions running across her features as if the Queen was debating her own thoughts.

But Brienne didn’t linger on the Queens queer expressions for long because when Daenerys walked away the scarred Bloodrider paused in his steps for a moment and even though she was wearing armor that hid even a hint of any figure she had, he looked at Brienne like a ravished wolf looked at a cut of choice steak.

Only a starving animal acted with far more dignity in the way it composed himself.

Brienne glanced up from the floor, meeting the Horselord’s gaze head on before she grabbed the hilt of her sword and glowered at him.

Raeko sneered as if she had grabbed hold of the hilt of a wooden sword rather than the pommel of a Valyrian Steel weapon, flicked his tongue at her and got back into formation, his large steps easily catching up to the otherwise ignorant Queen.

She waited until the footsteps fell silent before she allowed herself to release Oathkeeper and willed her breathing to slow and her heart to calm.

The Wildling Tormund had been rude, oblivious and obnoxious. He made her visibly uncomfortable and she had no bones about letting him know how annoyed and disgusted she found his advances, but she knew deep down he was harmless.

If Tormund hadn’t of fetishized her and treated her more like a human being and less like something ‘other’, or at least took the time to understand how uncomfortable she was with his attempts at ‘wooing’, she would have been a little flattered at the attention he paid her. She still wouldn’t have returned his affections, wild and loud weren’t exactly her type, but she wouldn’t feel the need to go and run to the bathhouse every time he looked at her at least.

But this scarred Dothraki; he was cruel and cold and most of all he was dangerous, Brienne knew it in her gut. Tormund may have repulsed her with his antics but he wouldn’t have touched her without explicit permission, she would have staked her life on that. However the Horselord seemed to be the type where having consent from his partner would have taken the pleasure for him.

Brienne was one of the best swordsman in the seven kingdoms and Jaime told her after the Clegane brothers, she was the physically strongest person he knew but for now she couldn’t rely solely a sword or brute power, she had to be more careful and cautious than ever before. If she got punched or kicked in the stomach or tossed around too much or lost too much blood during a fight or even if during a scuffle she lost her footing and tripped and landed face down… 

Brienne was more vulnerable now then she had ever been in her life, and worst of all, if what Raeko’s plans involving her were what Brienne assumed, he would have to remove her armor to commit the foul act and he would notice her ‘vulnerability’ as clear as day.

Her hand drifted to her stomach for a second, as if the touch, over dented armor nonetheless, could protect the babe from her fearful thoughts.

_ I won’t let anything happen to you _ , Brienne promised the life inside her.  _ Not now, not ever… _

Taking a deep breath to calm her thoughts she made her way to Jaime’s meager chambers.

The guards outside his room were as stoic and silent as ever, two ebony statues named Dust Maggot and Jaehaerys, the latter choosing the name of one of the Targaryen Kings of old out of respect of the woman who had freed him rather than keep the cruel name the masters forced him to wear.

Brienne approached them, Oathkeeper already in hand ready to hand over and as he took it for safe keeping Jaehaerys turned to his companion.

“The Kingslayer is popular today,” she heard him mutter to his watch partner in Valerian.

“Who else has been in to see him?” Brienne asked in the ancient tongue.

“His brother,” Dust Maggot replied. “Then the tall man from the throne room.” A beat and then, “there was quite a bit of shouting with the second one.”

Brienne closed her eyes against an oncoming wave of groans. She had wanted to talk to Jaime before Selwyn spoke to him, to warn him about the fury was going to come for him. She had hoped her father would have gone to Jaime after he had a chance to cool down.

Apparently the Evenstar had other ideas.

“Terrific,” Brienne grumbled in the Common Tongue  before she took a deep breath and walked inside, having earned the guards trust enough that she was able to shut the door behind her.

Jaime was laying down on the bed, no spilled blood or fresh bruises so that was a positive sign she assumed, staring forlorn up at the ceiling and what appeared to be regret and pain and a thousand other things at one time she would have cut her own hand off to make sure he never felt again dancing in the emeralds of his eye.  

He barely glanced over at the sound of the intrusion but when he did she noted the flicker of a sad smile on his chapped dried lips.

“My Lady.”

“I’m not-.”

“Can you please just pretend for a moment that you don’t hate me?”

Brienne face fell not only at the accusation that she hated him but the sound of it. He sounded so lifeless, so dull, so lackluster...

A lion was not meant to for captivity. 

When she didn’t answer he turned back to staring at the ceiling.

“Your father came to see me.” He didn’t look over at her. “I can’t be sure but I’m fairly confident he knows about the baby.”

Brienne nodded, taking a cautious step towards the bed. “He figured it out himself. Apparently the vertigo and blueberries was something my mother dealt with when she was pregnant.” A deep breath. “I did tell him about us though, about some of our... history together.”

“Oh I’m sure you did.” He didn’t look over at her. “The way he spoke about you and I, you would think I was writing to all of Westeros bragging of my conquest in the middle of the act.”

“I told him that wasn’t the case. I told him that… that you meant something to me,” she muttered, her cheeks turning a light shade of red. “That we went through a lot together, that we saved each others lives.”

“Funny because he somehow came to the conclusion that I was overcome with such a serious case of battle lust that I just took the first willing woman who would have me. 

She shook her head. “I didn’t tell him anything of the sort. I said-.”

“That you didn’t think I loved you.”

The words stuck in Brienne's throat. Jaime finally looked at his knight, and she flinched. The way he was looking at her,  with hurt and betrayal might as well have been a dagger in her heart for all the pain it caused her. 

“Did you say that to your father or not?” he asked again, unwilling to take silence as an answer.

Brienne swallowed hard before she nodded. “I did,” she admitted, hating the way her voice shook. The pain grew deeper in Jaime’s eyes and the ire grew in hers. “Can you really blame me for my take on the matter?”

She watched him purse his lips for a moment before he turned back to the ceiling. “No,” he finally admitted, beaten and broken down as a well aged plow horse. “I can’t. I just thought…”

“What?” she prodded after he trailed off. “Ser Jaime, what did you-?”

“I just… thought it was obvious how I felt about you. Apparently not…” he said, turning dull lifeless emeralds towards her.

Brienne's face fell and for a moment, she wants to run to him, to comfort him, to tell her she knew deep down how he truly felt, that it had been obvious that their relationship had been one of love and respect, that he looked at her like she was the Maid herself and that he mostly left because lioness claws were too sharp to escape from.

But she couldn’t say any of that. Because that would have rational, and heartache was anything but.

So instead she just ignored his words of adoration and moved the topic back to her father.

“He’ll come around eventually. He will,” she assured him when he turned his head towards her just enough so she could see his skepticism. “Just… it’ll take a while.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Because you know the Evenstar so well?”

“Because he told me he wouldn’t even compel you to ‘dishonor’ yourself and ‘be stuck with’ the most infamous oath breaker in the realm as a husband. Apparently it’s more honorable to give birth to a bastard out of wedlock than be the wife of the Kingslayer and give birth to a child named Lannister.”

She drew her bottom lip in between her teeth, her blue eyes wide and apologetic. 

“Can’t say I necessarily disagree,” he muttered. “I wouldn’t do you the dishonor of making you ‘the Kingslayers whore’ as some has taken to calling-.”

“He’s wrong.” 

She forced as much truth and stubbornness in her words as she could and pushed aside any heartache, any anger, any negative feelings she felt for the broken man before her. Brienne would not allow himself to believe he was so dishonorable that a marriage to him would be a sentence, not when she herself had envisioned Jaime fastening a crimson lion cloak around her shoulders and reciting the vows that he was hers and she was his. 

“There would be nothing dishonorable about becoming your wife or birthing a child named Lannister,” Brienne told him sharply, with hate brimming on the edge of her words for her father for saying those words to him, for Cersei for tearing him down enough to make him believe that could possibly be true, even for Jaime for believing he was that low of a man that a woman would be dishonored for the simple fact she was his wife.

He looked at her then, with that same softness and wonder that always made her flush, like he couldn’t possibly believe the Lady Knight was real much less saying these types of truths about him.

“Really?” Jaime breathed, sounding almost like a child who wanted to be assured someone was truly proud of him for some accomplishment.

Brienne blushed scarlet and turned away from him then. “I-... of course, yes, but I don’t… I didn’t mean…”

Jaime bowed his head, all of the fleeting softness and light he had extinguishing. 

“Right. Yes, of course, I didn’t… My apologies.”

“It’s fine,” she muttered, her cheeks growing hotter. The two of them stayed like that for a moment, both of them enveloped in an awkward silence that made Brienne want to flee and never come back.

But she was a knight now, and Knights did not flee from uncomfortable situations. She looked over him, truly looked, for the first time since she told him she was pregnant.

Brienne noticed just how ragged he had really become since he left Winterfell, looking more beast than man. His scraggly hair had reached the bottom of his ears and his beard now more grey then blonde was growing longer and more grizzled every day. His grey peasants shirt was wrinkled and stained and was half undone, revealing a sliver of bare chest, not to mention the smell about him that proved to her he hadn’t had a bath in at least a week.

“When was the last time you cleaned yourself up?” she asked him, drinking in his appearance.

He simply shrugged. Brienne rolled her eyes before she went over to him and clutched by the arm, pulling him up from the bed. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

She said nothing, just walked out of his chambers with him, Dust Maggot and Jaehaerys following. They walked a little while before they came to a place she had discovered two weeks prior. 

The servants bathhouse which had, for the most part, survived the destruction, but had enough rubble and dust in the air that most wouldn’t have used it unless they were in dire need but considering the rest of the private baths as well as the fact the other bathhouses had managed to survive the collapse no one used it.

No one apart from Brienne that is, who was grateful for the privacy it afforded her when she took off her armor and exposed her ‘condition’.

The baths weren't nearly as grand or lavish like the ones in Casterly Rock or the ones he used as a kingsguard, even the guest baths in Winterfell. 

They were simple large grey stone pools with a place to keep the fires stoked beneath in order to keep the water hot underneath. There were no expensive soaps or oils or scents to make the water perfumed, just a bar of hard lye soap and a scrub brush, rough threadbare towels, and candles placed strategically around the large room so that one wasn’t bathing in darkness.

“Get undressed,” Brienne ordered the lion, using one of the long candles to light the wood beneath one of the baths.  She turned to the unsullied who had followed them into the room. “I highly doubt Ser Jaime needs his guards close by in order to wash himself.”

“We’ll be right outside,” Jaehaerys told her before he and his companion left the room, shutting the door behind them.

Brienne turned her attention back to Jaime who was staring rather confused at the woman before him. She blinked, once, twice. “...Do you need help undressing?”

There was no sarcasm or sneer in her words, just a genuine willingness to help him. 

Jaime blinked, coming out of the shock of what was happening, and shook his head before he began undoing the loose laces with own hand, fumbling for only a moment before he managed to discard the stained rag that doubled as a shirt.  

Brienne swallowed hard as her eyes drank in his form. He had lost weight since she last saw him shirtless, the night he left her, but his muscles were still as solid and prominent as ever, earned through years of swinging a sword and charging with a lance. Even approaching the middle of his life he was strong and lean and beautiful…

For as long as she lived, she would never be able to understand how a man as comely and fair and strong as Jaime Lannister had chosen her to warm his bed and occupy a part of his heart, even if it was fleeting. 

She averted her eyes when he reached for the laces on his breeches.

“I’m just trying to give you some privacy,” Brienne muttered when he questioned why she was so shy all of a sudden.

“I think modesty went out the window when you were on your knees and my cock was shooting cum down your throat,” he told her, laughing at the brilliant crimson that flushed her face afterwards.

“Just get in the tub, Jaime,” was the only response.

Brienne waited until she heard the sounds of him lowering himself into the steaming back before she looked at him again. 

“Will you be joining me?” he asked, groaning as he sank deeper into the hot water and closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the cool stone.

Brienne swallowed hard and shook her head.

“I can’t,” she whispered, breathless. 

There was literal truth to her words, she really did have a few things she needed to do, but she knew that baths shared between the two of them always ended up being far more intimate than they were for most other couples and her heart couldn’t take that degree of pain right then. 

Baths together for any other two people were rather lusty endeavors (two naked wet bodies pressed up against one another, how could it not be?) but for Jaime and Brienne, it was something sacred that was shared between the two of them.

Brienne would sit between his legs pressed up against his chest with his arms wrapped around her waist, as intimate and vulnerable and open as two people could be. She would always lightly run her finger over the deep crisscross map of scars on his stump and he would rest his head on her shoulder, his breath soft and sweet against her ear.

Then they would talk. They would talk and tell one another about their deepest secrets, their greatest fears, their strongest desires, things they never told another soul on this earth… 

That was where she told him about Red Ronnet and the Rose and he told her how much it hurt him to the point of having to bite back tears whenever Tywin or Cersei used to call him stupid when he was a child, and even now how much the insult stung.

She told him about watching her brother Galladon screaming and flailing as the Tarth waves dragged him under and hating herself to this day for her not running into the roaring ocean and rather how she just stood there and screamed and cried for someone to help him. 

Jaime told how he felt nothing at Joffrey's murder, how he was almost relieved at the boy kings death, and how he hated himself for not feeling like a father should feel after his first son's murder.

Brienne told him about the betrayal she felt when her father betrothed her to a sixty five year old man who threatened to beat her when she was sixteen. Jaime told her about how he felt he was a dishonorable monster who didn’t deserve happiness and how he knew, deep down, it was Cersei’s influence hat made him feel that way but he was scared he wouldn’t be able to fight it.

They didn’t offer solutions to problems or counsel unless it was asked of them, there was no judgements from her and no jokes from him (no matter how much Brienne wanted to tell him he DID deserve happiness or Jaime wanted to remind Brienne she was only four and had she tried to rescue her brother she would have gotten swept up in the raging seas as well.)

There was nothing but someone willing to bear the burden of secrets that that had plagued them for too long, the water of the Winterfell hot springs washing away the scourge of the the bitter poison left on their skin.

It made them fall deeper in love with the person they were telling their secrets too, which is precisely why Brienne couldn’t bare to step into the tub with Jaime right now.

She handed th elion a bar of lye soap and a rather harsh scrub brush, watching him for a moment before she started to walk towards the door.

“You’re leaving?” 

Brienne could hear the pleading behind what he had hoped to convey as a casual question.

“I’ll come back,” she promised gently, and watched as he visibly relaxed, going back to scrubbing the grime and filth from his body rather than watching her walk out.

It took her awhile to gather all the supplies she needed. So much time that by the time she got back to the bathhouse Jaime was out of the stone pool, a towel wrapped around his waist and another drying his hair, his back turned towards her. Brienne bit her lip as she she watched his muscles flex and move under his now clean skin.

He must have heard her walk back in because he turned towards her then and the lady knight had to push away the improper thoughts of wanting to lick every bead of water left on him, starting from the curve of his shoulder, down his bare and muscled chest and finishing off at what the towel wrapped around his waist was hiding.

“I do believe you are staring, Ser.”

His voice broke Brienne of her trance and she turned away from his chest to his teasing eyes. Heat rose to her cheeks and she turned away from his face. 

“I- I um, I brought you some fresh clothes,” she muttered, trying to find some way to rid herself of the fire that was building inside her. “And some shears to clean you up a bit.”

“Oh you did, did you?” He walked towards her with a swagger that came from being a Lannister. “You know I’m fairly knowledgeable about what happens to women when they’re with child. I know they’re sometimes hit overwhelmingly with certain... urges,” he purred, making no efforts to keep his emerald eyes on her face and rather let them wander over her as if he could see right through the bulky armor to the figure underneath.

Brienne squirmed uncomfortably under the lion's gaze. She wanted him to take her in his arms, like throw her down on the floor, tear off her armor and clothes and completely ravish her with his fingers, his tongue and what was hanging between his legs until she was absolutely breathless.

“We can’t,” she breathed, to herself and the man standing in front of her.

“Why?” he questioned softly, reaching up and pushing a stray lock of short pale hair behind her ear, letting his finger lightly run over her earlobe.

Summoning the very last of her resistance and strength she had, Brienne put her hands on his chest and gently pushed him back a few steps. She watched as the bravado faded from his face.

They were no longer together.  He had no right to her body and she had no right to his, no matter if she was carrying his child or not. Brienne knew he would take her back in a heartbeat if she asked and she would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t want him back either.

But he had left her. He would have rather died with Cersei then live with her, and as much as she cared for him, as much as she loves- loved him, as much as she lusted for him; she was no one’s second choice. Least of all when it came to a woman such as Cersei Lannister.

“Here,” she muttered, handing him a clean pair of plain brown breeches.  She nodded towards a simple wooden ladder back chair that leaned up against one of the stone walls. “Go sit down.”

He did as he was told without comment and watched silently as Brienne came behind him and began working out the knots and snarls from his hair. Jaime closed his eyes, leaning back his head and sighing with content while she worked, running her long fingers and the comb through his hair.

When she began to cut the now tangle free hair he turned back and raised his brow.

“You know how to cut hair?” he asked with a healthy dose of skepticism.

She turned his head back around.

“I do. Believe it or not, there was a time when my hair was longer than Sansa’s.”

“Truly?”

“Mmm hmm. A whole head of straw colored curls that went down almost the length of my back and I absolutely despised them. Whenever I would fight it would get in my face, it would be impossible to comb and clean out all the dirt and sweat and bits of twigs and sand, it wouldn’t fit under my helm… But my Septa and my father refused to let me cut it so one day when I was nine I snuck into my father’s chambers and I stole his dagger.”

“You cut your hair with a  _ dagger? _ ”

She could hear the amusement in his voice and it brought a smile to her face. “I had been told explicitly told not play with the barbers tools or my Septa’s things and he hadn’t said anything about playing with that particular dagger so I went back to my room and two hours later…”

Jaime laughed, making her smile grow even wider as she continued to cut his locks. “I’m sure you looked magnificent.”

“I looked like a blind man had attacked me with a dull razor. Half was cut so short it was almost buzzed, it was horribly uneven, indescribably choppy…” Brienne smiled at the memory. “But it could fit under my helm and it didn’t get into my eyes when I fought.”

“And what did the Evenstar have to say about that?” 

“He was angry at me for disobeying but my Septa was angrier for getting rid of ‘the only lady like thing about me’. I still have scars on my ass from where she belted me,” she said as she combed the hair from his eyes. “She told me I was going to grow it out and never touch it again but six months later, I crept into my father's room, stole his dagger again… Eventually he agreed to let me keep it the length I wanted but my Septa refused to assist me in keeping it short so it was either walk around looking like a commoner who had been accosted with a razor or learn how to manage it so it looked at least somewhat respectable.”

“And you’ve been cutting your own hair ever since.”

“That I have. With scissors, not a dagger mind you.”

Jaime chuckled softly as she cut and then after a moment, “don’t make it too short.”

Her hand stayed for a moment, her memories flashing back to when she saw him with short, almost too short in her opinion, hair the first time after she returned him to Kingslanding.

“My father always hated it long,” he had told her, but Brienne always had a feeling that it was another Lannister who detested the lions mane falling into his face.

“I won’t cut it short,” she promised Jaime with a softness that she reserved only for him.

Neither one said much after that. Jaime closed his eyes and allowed her to work without any complaints. Afterwards, cutting it more or less the same length he had when he came to Winterfell and brushing the bits of hair from his shoulders, she came around to the front of him and began to cut the ragged monstrosity of his overgrown beard, ignoring how close she was to his face so that she could feel his breath on her lips.

Brienne avoided his eyes staring at her face as best she could, singularly fixed on the beard which was more grey than brown and ignoring the pounding in her heart.

“There,” she said after a few minutes. He didn’t look like the golden lion others thought him as but he looked like himself again.

He looked like the Jaime who had loved her and laid with her in Winterfell.

“If you want it shorter,” she said as she stood up from her kneeling position “I can probably track down a razor and-.”

“Take off your armor, Brienne.”

The words caught in her throat. She looked down at the still sitting man who was looking up at her with big green pleading eyes. “Take it off,” he repeated again, softer.

She sighed and shook her head. “Jaime, I told you-.”

“No that’s not-  I- I don’t want…” She saw him swallow hard and watched as his eyes turned up and met hers. “I want to see her,” he finally managed. “Please.”

Brienne said nothing. She took a step away from the still seated man and she watched as his face fell, the same way it had done when he thought he had taken a step too far in her room that first night. 

Without a word and without taking her eyes away from his she began unclasping the armor, tossing the cheap metal away without a care to it. First the shoulders, them the arm guards and finally her breast plate that was used to hide their greatest secret.

Then, with a shaking breath and keeping her eyes locked on his, Brienne began unlacing her shirt, working with quick nimble fingers and with only a moment's hesitation she pushed the shirt from her shoulders letting it fall to the floor and stood before him, her hands by her side.

Jaime’s eyes didn’t linger on her breasts but rather slid past them and they instead fell on the growing bump that held their child, astonishment and wonder and joy and a love purer than anything she thought any man was capable of shining in his wet eyes as he stared at the bump.

Slowly he got up from the chair and fell to his knees, looking up at her for a moment before she nodded, a wordless answer to an unspoken question.

Cautiously as if fearing she would run away he lifted his hand and, hesitating for only a moment and then placed it on her smooth rounded stomach, caressing it  as tenderly as one might handle a priceless treasure that would shatter at the slightest touch.

Brienne ran her hand through his freshly cut hair but he did not take his eyes from the babe. Jaime touched his lips softly against her stomach, lingering there for the longest time, his hand still running along the slight curve.

And as Brienne felt the dampness from his tears fall on her smooth skin, she realized she never wanted to go without his touch again…

 

Please Review!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has so far been my favorite chapter and I really hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	12. Chapter 12

Jaime would have stayed like that, kneeling on the cool damp stone with his hand caressing his child and Brienne’s long fingers running softly through his hair, for the rest of his life. Until the seas ran dry and the castle they were in crumpled to dust with the ages; he wanted to stay in this bathhouse with her, with them, pretending that they were a real family.

But he also knew he had been in here for far too long and eventually the two sullen guards would walk in and see the condition he placed her in and then their secret would be revealed to the world but more importantly, the Queen would know and the cub growing in Brienne’s belly would be in danger and that would NOT happen so long as he drew breath.

Jaime kissed the marks on her pale white stomach that she had earned from her usually taut skin stretching as the baby grew one last time before he finally stood up, slowly pulling his hand away from the glorious curve of her stomach.

Keeping his eyes locked on hers, Jaime took a step away from Brienne, both very much away that the two of them were standing inches away from one another shirtless once more.

Time stood still for the knights. The longer they stayed locked in each other’s crossroads, the more Jaime wanted to be the first to break. He wanted to grab her by the back of the head and slam his lips against hers while he yanked at her soft hair. He wanted her body pressed up against his, he wanted to touch her, to taste her, to feel her nails, short as they were, digging into his back… he wanted his cock surrounded by the soft warmth of her cunt and to hear her screaming his name to the Gods- the guards outside be damned to all Seven Hells.

He wanted her to hear that exceptionally loud laugh that he had no idea existed until one night when they were laying in bed together, a complete opposite to her usually stern stoic speech, he wanted to see her smile that soft grin reserved only for him, he wanted to be a father to the child growing inside her. 

But, he realized as he broke the stare to grab her shirt from the floor, he had lost the privilege of being hers the moment he rode out of the Winterfell gates.

Jaime held out her shirt for her so she could slip her arms into the sleeves and then turned to grab his own rumpled shirt that he had discarded before the bath.

“Wait,” Brienne called out to him as she finished lacing her shirt. “I brought a clean shirt for you as well.”

Jaime waited patiently, expecting another dull dreary grey lowborn shirt but what she handed him almost made tears jump to his eyes.

It wasn’t made of soft silk or expensive leather but rather plain cotton, not much different than the shirts that the Queen spared him and would be a bit short in the arms but what made emotions swell inside of him was the fact it was a bright crimson top and the stitching was made of gold colored thread.

“I was told the Queen burned your old wardrobe.” Jaime didn’t ask her to specify which Queen. “So I borrowed this from one of the Lannister soldiers, he said you’re free to keep it.”

He swallowed hard, not taking his eyes off of the shirt as she spoke, running his hand over the fabric.

There was no ornate details, no hidden Lions woven into the fabric, but it was a Lannister shirt nonetheless. It was his house colors, the colors he once dawned proudly and honorably, colors that, to this day, even if his house had all but fallen into ruin, still filled him with a sense of pride when he saw them.

When Jaime wore gold and crimson, no man alive could touch him. When Jaime wore gold and crimson, he was a Lion.

And Brienne had gone out of her way to make him feel that way rather than let him continue wearing the drab grey commoner clothes, a not so subtle insult towards the former heir to Casterly Rock...

“I grabbed a few others from your men,” she continued, wringing her hands together almost nervously when Jaime had remained silent for a stretch. “They might not fit exactly right but I-.”

“Thank you.” His voice was hoarse and thick with emotion and tears that he forced himself to bite back. He met her eyes. “For…  _ everything _ , Brienne.”

That rare half smile coupled with a hint of red rising on her cheeks made him want to melt into her.

“You’re welcome.”

The two knights shared one last smile and after Brienne allowed Jaime to help her with the dented armor, without protest he noted to himself happily, they headed out of the stone bathhouse, Dust Maggot and Jaehaerys following in step behind them. If Jaime didn’t know better, he would have sworn the two impassive spear carrying statues had a hint of a smile when the two of them came out of the bath house together.

One of them muttered something to the other in Valerian that made Brienne blush but before he could reprimand them for what he thought was an insult, Briemne chastised them in the ancient language Jaime didn’t understand and when she turned back around the corner of her lips flickered upwards while the two guards behind them grinned so he decided against rounding on them and demanding they apologize.

Jaime bit his lip as he looked over at the knight.

“Say something in Valerian,” he said, keeping his voice as casual as he could.

“Pardon?”

“I’ve never heard you speak Valerian before is all.” He widened his eyes and stuck his bottom lip out slightly, knowing full well, as much as she denied it, how easy she fell for his big green eyes and adorable pouty lips ever since he showed them that first night when he told her just how sad the red haired wildling was when she left the feast. “Please?”

Brienne raised a pale brow at the man standing beside her.

“Ao jenigon nyke, kēlio,” the ancient language coming out in a slow, breathless whisper that she in turn knew drove him wild.

Jaime sighed at the beauty of the words, letting his eyes drink her in even with the bulky armor overtop her figure. “Beautiful… So poetic.”

Ignoring the snickering of the two Unsullied behind him, he was about to ask her to say something else, thinking all the while how it would sound in the throes of passion while she was underneath him, gasping and crying out words in the foreign tongue when he felt her bristle and stiffen beside him, so much so that he stopped so suddenly the surefooted unsullied almost crashed into him.

In front of the group was a fair faced and comely woman, no more than twenty three name days passed. She was wearing a pale blue lightweight and airy gown that highlighted her feminine shape with the sigil of Tarth embroidered on the front, yellow and white gemstones acting as the sun bursts and crescent moon while a golden sunburst pendant with a sapphire in the center of it hung between her breasts. 

Jaime’s first thought was that she was a cousin of Briennes, but there was no similarities that they seemed to share. The girl making her way towards them had warm tan skin rather than creamy white coloring, honey blonde hair that fell in long soft waves down her back instead of the pale straw color that, if Brienne and Selwyn were any indication, seemed to run in the Evenstar’s family and possessed light brown eyes rather than brilliant deep sapphires. She was also far shorter than the Lady Knight, an inch shorter than Cersei had been, with a slim figure and feminine curves.

Not to mention she walked as if she was trying to prove a point that she belonged, the same walk Little Finger had when he strode down the Red Keep halls. The proud elegant stride that all Highborns, Brienne included though she would deny it if ever confronted with the fact, seemed to possess wasn’t natural and self taught from the day she learned to walk but recently acquired and it showed as much. Her feet were just a little too perfectly spaced apart, the pointed steps just a little too deliberate. 

Jaime turned towards Brienne and was about to inquire who this woman was when he caught sight of her face. Her face was more stoic than ever and her frown was far more pronounced than he had ever seen it, making her features even more grim than usual.

“It’s lovely to see you again, Lady Brienne,” the woman said, curtsying at the tall knight, who didn’t bother returning the favor with her usual bow, with a smile that Jaime read clear politeness from but also a hint of smugness deep beneath the courteous behavior.

The stranger turned towards Jaime and her smile transformed to a smile with a hint of flirtation not so hidden in its depths.

“Ser Jaime, it’s an honor to meet one the most fabled knights of the Seven Kingdoms,” she said, offering her hand.

Jaime’s eyes flickered to Brienne who was eyeing the hand as if she wanted to give this woman a similar fate to his own regarding his own. But courtesy and chivalry dictated when a Highborn Lady offered you her hand… He grabbed hold of the outreached appendage as loose as possible and planted the lightest kiss he was sure ever touched a ladies hand before he lowered it, taking note of the glower in Briennes’s eyes.

But the simple chaste kiss was enough for the woman, whose smile broadened and took in his figure rather hungrily. He had a feeling Brienne was regretting the shower and grooming she just gave him with a vengeance.

The woman turned back towards the scowling blonde knight, a glint of almost amusement in her brown eyes.

“It’s so good to see you again, My Lady,” 

“Aileen.” Brienne's voice was cold and stiff and sounded as if she would rather be anywhere in the world than in front of her. Also, he surmised by the flash of annoyance from the brown eyed girl, Aileen was not a Lady, elsewise Brienne would have used her proper title, and she hated being reminded of it. “Might I ask what you’re doing in Kingslanding?”

Jaime saw the woman bristle slightly and she held her head up, doing her best to appear to look down at the tall woman. 

_With little success at that._ _My Lady could eat you alive…_

“The Evenstar is here,” she answered as if it were an obvious answer. “It’s customary for a Lady to accompany her Lord on long journeys.” Aileen placed a rather dainty hand on the sigil on her dress, intentionally drawing attention to it. “Also, with all due respect, Lady Brienne, you really should address me with proper respect seeing as I’m the Lady of Tarth. I realize that you’ve been away from the island for a while but I assure you the courtesies haven’t changed so much since you’ve been away.”

Jaime’s brow furrowed, looking between the blushing tall knight beside him and the smug woman before him. All of a sudden Aileen didn’t look as pretty as he thought she was moments ago. 

Her nose was too small for her face and her lips were far too thin and she had a look of dimwittedness about her. Not to mention Jaime had always found brown eyes dull and lifeless and hers were no exceptions, and the pale blue of the gown clashed horribly against her artificially tanned skin that wasn’t the smooth beautiful copper of the Dothraki or the warm brown of the Dornish but had been earned from laying out in the sun trying to add some artificial bronze to her person.

The silk dress would have looked ten times better on someone with pale skin, light blonde hair with big blue eyes to match the fabric.

“I was unaware,” Jaime said, a polite smile to someone unknowing but as sharp as a needle to anyone who bothered to look at it for more than a moment. “That the Evenstar had taken a wife.”

“He hasn’t but Lord Selwyn and I-.”

“Were you betrothed in the sights of Gods and man?”

Aileen shifted uncomfortably. “We haven’t yet but-.”

“Are you Highborn?” he asked with as much faux politeness as he could muster, already knowing the answer from the way she glared at him.

“No.”

Jaime pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “So you aren’t Lord Selwyn’s wife and you aren’t his betrothed, nor were you born with the right to be addressed as a Lady or any title other than, well, ‘paramour’ is the nicest term I can think of but I’ll only refrain from calling you what you really are because a  _ true _ Lady is standing amongst us.” His eyes took in the gown she was wearing. “Nor do lowborns have the right to wear a noble houses sigil.”

“What right do you have to care what sigil I wear,  _ Kingslayer _ ,” Aileen sneered narrowing his eyes at the man standing before her as if she were the first to use the nickname in an attempt to wound him.

Brienne snapped to attention, sapphire eyes burning with ire. 

“You are speaking to a Highborn Lord and anointed knight,” she barked in such a commanding tone, Jaime himself almost felt the need to apologize for ever referring to himself as such. “Call him by his name and title. Call him Ser Jaime.” 

The softness that overwhelmed Jaime’s face was enough to melt even the Night Kings frozen heart. He looked at her with such overwhelming love and warmth that when she caught him out of the corner of her eye she quickly turned away, blush rising to the surface of her skin.

Jaime looked at the woman who had the grace to appear ashamed at the lapse in courtesy that she no doubt only recently began to learn with a smug expression before he turned back to his knignt. 

“My Lady,” he said with a polite nod of his head, taking Brienne's calloused hand in his and bringing it to his lips, gifting the back of it with a soft tender kiss and stroking the tops of her long fingers with his thumb before he offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

If embarrassment could kill, Brienne would have suffered death a thousand times over in the amount of time it took for her to reach up with a shaking hand and take his arm then, without wasting another spare moment on the woman who was watching the two of them walk off as if she was seeing a three headed dragon, Jaime lifted his head, walking as tall and proud as any lion who came before.

When they were finally around the corner, Jaime finally spoke, keeping his voice soft and low so that the ears in the walls might not hear. “Is she one of your father’s…?”

She nodded stiffly, keeping her eyes straight ahead and unwilling to look at him, as if the shame of taking a whore forty years her junior belonged to her and not her father. 

Brienne told Jaime about her father’s exploits one day when they were in Winterfell. A new maid, young and beautiful and fair, every year since Brienne was around eight years of age.

In the beginning she thought they might be her new mother. They stayed at Evenfall, they played the part of the Lady of Tarth, they certainly looked the part… and then a year later she would weep when they said goodbye and left the castle, only for a new girl a few months later to take their place.  Another young beauty plucked from the corners of the sapphire isle and the cycle would repeat over and over and over...

Some treated Brienne as kindly as they would their own child or at the very least like a friend, others would be awkward and uncomfortable, especially as she aged and his paramours were closer to Brienne's age then Selwyns and eventually became younger than the tall blonde knight, others that thought they would be married and give the Evenstar an heir of their own were cruel and unkind. But the moon tea he made his ‘companions’ drink prevented any more children, and all those women would eventually be kicked out of Evenfall or leave of their own volition when they realized they would never have a rose and azure cloak draped around their shoulders while Brienne remained the future Evenstar and the only heir to the sapphire isle. 

“I can’t believe he brought her to the capital,” she grumbled as she opened the door to her chambers and walked in, leaving the door open. Jaime hesitated outside the threshold, glancing at the guards who just shrugged and nodded towards the room as if to say ‘go get her’. Licking his suddenly dry lips Jaime followed her inside, shutting the door behind him. 

“Not only is it INCREDIBLY dangerous for her to be here,” Brienne continued, as she grabbed a handful of blueberries Jaime left for her earlier. “But does he want the whole realm to know he has a… companion?”

Jaime fiddled with a loose thread on his shirt, not quite sure what to do or say. Sitting on the bed and making himself at home far too familiar but he also felt awkward simply standing there as she took off her armor.

He missed the domesticity and simplicity of Winterfell, when her chambers had become most assuredly ‘theirs’, when they took their meals together, slept together and played an intricate board game involving kings moving one spot, queens moving as much as they wanted and castles going straight and across that a Meereneese trader brought to Tarth together. 

Brienne had taught the game to Jaime who caught on surprisingly quick, anticipating her moves and knowing when to attack with which pieces, when to sacrifice certain others… The two of them could have spent hours playing the game, talking about whatever came to mind and never getting bored, usually ending with Jaime capturing her king and then capturing her lips in a kiss. 

Once during a particularly long bout Brienne told him that the trader who gave her the game said there was a certain degree of intellect and intelligence you needed to play much less triumph.

“An intelligence you most assuredly possess,” she told him as she watched Jaime make a move she hadn’t anticipated and winning the round. 

It was the first time anyone had ever called the one handed lion ‘intelligent’, about anything, and she had said it so flippingly and casual that Jaime had almost believed it.

“No one judged Oberyn Martell for bringing Ellaria to Joffrey’s wedding,” he said.

“They did, they just had the sense not to say anything to him.”

Jaime chuckled, nodding. He took another step into her room. “You make a fair point. But I do find it rather hilarious that the hypocrite insulted the two of us and went on a tirade about how dishonorable I am and talked about what we did was so scandalous and dishonorable and meanwhile he’s got a twenty three year old unmarried cunt waiting for him in his room that he’s going to be getting rid of in a few months.”

“He’s still my father and the Evenstar, Jaime,” she told him, a warning in her voice that let him know she was allowed to vent about her father’s proclivities but he wasn’t. “Have care how you speak of him.”

_ He had no care for you when he called you a whore. He’s lucky he’s your father or else I would have ran him through,  _ he thought bitterly, but rather then speak his protests aloud he just gave a polite bow of his head, remembering exactly what it was like whenever Tyrion would insult Tywin or Cersei. Jaime was allowed to think and voice bad thoughts about them, but the moment someone else did, even if it was well deserved, his hackles raised. 

“I’m sorry,” he told her and her face softened. “I shouldn’t have insulted him.”

“You’re forgiven,” she told him at once and Jaime wanted to melt at her quickly spoken words while at the same time a familiar uncomfortableness rose up in him… She was so quick to forgive him not just for insulting her father but for everything he had done in his past, so quick to see the best in him, so quick to see him as a man he knew he could never be.

“What is it?” she asked, curious at the sudden change of expression. “Jaime?”

“Why me?” he asked her, his voice softer than she had ever heard it before. He walked towards her and while she didn’t go towards him, she didn’t back away either. “Why did you forgive me for my sins, how could you did you fall in love with someone like me when you’re so amazing?”

Jaime was right in front of her now. Her eyes had turned several shades darker, a night sky just before dawn broke. She barely breathed and he swore he saw her she lean forward.

“I fell in love with you because you’re a good man,” she whispered, breathless. 

Jaime raised his hand and buried it in her short blonde hair, marveling at its pillow like softness that others might not have imagined when they pictured the warriors hair. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch while her own hands came up and grabbed hold of his arms, lightly stroking the muscles hidden underneath his crimson shirt. Jaime moved into her, closing his eyes and resting his head against hers, so close he could feel her sweet breath on his lips.

“I’m not though,” he breathed. “I’m not a good man, I don’t deserve your person or your forgiveness or kindness… I don’t deserve you,” Jaime finished in a rush of words, lunging forward to capture her lips but she stepped back, pushing him back so fiercely he nearly stumbled.

His eyes flew open, unsure that had been the cause for the sudden change of atmosphere.

Any softness she had faded away, replaced by something akin to anger, and confusion took him. What in the Seven Hells did she have to be upset about?

“What?” Jaime demanded when she stormed over to where she stored her armor. “What did I say? Are you mad I tried to kiss you?”

“No,” she said, as stiff and sharply as she could as she removed the shoulder pads, slamming them down on the chest of drawers.

“Then what could you POSSIBLY be mad at? I thought we were getting along,” he finished gently.

Brienne just removed her breast plate, saying nothing. Jaime narrowed his eyes at the knight standing before him, still not having the faintest idea what he’d done to upset her. 

“Are you going to tell me why you’re suddenly in such a foul mood or am I going to have to guess?” Still no answer and his ire grew. He thought they had been getting along, getting back to a familiar place where they could be friendly and teasing and even intimate towards one another but now he did something wrong, as always, only now it was worse because he didn’t have the faintest idea what he did done.

“Brienne. Brienne, what did I do wrong?” He huffed at the blonde. “You’re an obnoxiously stubborn wench sometimes, you know that?!”

She whipped around, sapphires full of anger.

“ _ Don’t _ call me that!”

“Then tell me what I did!”

Brienne narrowed her eyes at him before she stormed over to him, gripping him by the crimson shirt. “You DO deserve this!”

“To dress in my house colors?”

“No!” she yelled in his face. “You deserve to have someone treat you with  _ kindness _ ! To have someone treat you with some  _ common decency _ ! To have someone treat you like a bloody human being, to treat you the way you  **_DO_ ** deserve, to treat you the way she never did! And what makes me so infuriated is you refuse to realize it!”

Brienne moved her hands form his shirt to his face, jerking his head up so he was looking at her. “You almost DIED because you don’t believe that you deserve happiness or deserve someone who treats you decently and even now, even after she’s gone, you still believe this self loathing and self hatred that she installed in you but it’s not right, Jaime! It’s not right, it never was!”

He watched as tears filled the corner of her eyes and he swallowed hard, hating himself for doing this to her, to reducing this strong amazing woman to tears and not for the first time. 

“Do you know what it’s like watching the person you love think of himself as some hateful monster when you know the truth and you can’t help him?”

Jaime’s anger had faded by then, replaced by an all too familiar gut wrenching pain that was a non-stop constant at Winterfell. That pain that seized him whenever she told him he was a man of honor, whenever she spoke to him with softness and looked at him like he was greater than all the stars in the sky, whenever she took him at his word and called him trustworthy.

Whenever she called him a good man.

Jaime knew it wasn’t true, none of it. He wasn’t a good man, he did terrible hateful things for a terrible hateful woman. He was the stupidest man in his family, he was an oath breaker, a man without honor, the whole realm said so, Cersei had said so and his sweet sisters word was absolute.

Ever since she had whispered in his ear when they were thirteen that she wanted to experience her first time with someone she claimed to love, caring nothing for his protests and silencing his arguments that it wasn’t right with soft kisses that left him wanting and a dainty maidens hand working its way inside his sleep pants, he was hers.

Cersei was never Jaimes, but he was hers. And when she called him stupid, or a man without honor, or a Kingslayer or a sister fucker or when she got drunk and sneered that she should have been born the heir and him the daughter because of how pathetically useless he was, he knew Cersei was telling the truth, and he knew the truth about what he deserved from life and from his lover.

Jaime bowed his head, offering no response but to stare at the wooden floor beneath his feet. Brienne’s calloused hands drop from his face and she took a step back, the rage she had felt disappearing and fading back into her usual stoic expression.

”I’m tired and I need rest,” she muttered. “If you’ll excuse me.”

He didn’t move, and didn’t offer a single word towards her until she was nearly at the side table where she kept her wash water.

“Do you really think I had that little control in my life? Do you truly not think I made any choices of my own volition and she was pulling the strings for every choice I’ve ever made?”

He may have known, deep down, that the self hate and self loathing was linked to the poison Cersei had been pouring down his throat for years but that small fiercely defensive part of his brain that wanted to slap Tyrion every time he insulted this sister, that wanted to launch himself at Sansa when she talked about Cersei’s pending execution, was just as prevalent now as it had been for years, no matter who was speaking.

Cersei did not pull the strings for every choice he made, as much as Brienne wanted to pretend it, as much as Jaime wanted it to use that as an excuse, he would not allow his sisters memory to be tarnished nor would be thought of as some mindless maid who needed protecting.

He turned to face her. Her back was still turned to him and her hand that she lifted to the pitcher of water was frozen in place. “Of course you don’t see that. You only see the best of me, the sad weak defenseless man that needs to be rescued from his evil irredeemable sister. You don’t want to picture me CHOOSING to push a ten year old child from a window or me CHOOSING to murder my own cousin to escape and get back to her, you only see what you want to see about me.” A beat. “You don’t want to see me trying to murder you just so I could get back to Cersei.”

Brienne looked at him then, her big blue eyes wide and full of hurt. 

Jaime pretended the way she was looking at him wasn’t a dagger in his heart. “If I had been at the height of my strength,” he continued, meeting her gaze head on. “I would have won that fight on the bridge and I wouldn’t have wasted another moment of my miserable life thinking about you. You would have been just a feast for crows and a fond memory of a win against some wench whose name I wouldn’t be able to remember.” 

His hatred for himself for Cersei, for Brienne’s dammed goodness and honor that he would be able to understand why she choose to waste on him was pouring out in the words he couldn’t stop himself from saying. “I would still have two hands if it weren’t for you, I’d still be the greatest swordsman in Westeros if it weren’t for you, I would still have my sister by my side if I hadn’t of gone North to fight with you… From where I’m standing it wasn’t Cersei who ruined my life, it was YOU.” 

The moment the words left him he would have chopped off his other hand to take them back.  He saw her eyes fill with tears as they looked at the ugly raw stump, saw the way she swallowed her words that were undoubtedly but deserveably cruel. 

Jaime’s face fell as the realization hit him like a hit from The Mountain. 

“Brienne, I’m sorry,” he breathed, the emeralds in his eyes screaming an apology he knew she wouldn’t accept. “I don’t believe that, you know I-.”

“Please leave.” The words made him flinch. They were filled with tears and pains and horrors for what he said and for the man he was.

He wanted to stay and scream his apology until his throat was hoarse, but he could tell that right now Nothing he could say would take the sting away.

Not a sting, a gashing gnawing mobster clawing at her chest, a dull blade carving out her heart, Vugo Locke chopping off her sword hand all happening all at once.

That was what Jaime had done to her.

He left the room without another word, turning around when she called out to him.

“You’re right about one thing.” Her voice was choked with tears. “You are just as hateful as she is. And I hope the two of you rot in Hell together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Ao jenigon nyke, kēlio,” is real Valerian by the way, you can actually translate it if you want to find out what she said. Also please review!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all inquiring minds out there, the translation was ‘you annoy me, lion’.

Jaime was right

As much as she argued against herself, as much as she thought over his words in-depth, as much as she tried to explain away the explanation she arrived to the same conclusion every time.

Jaime was right.

Cersei hadn’t been the one to destroy him. The vile woman Brienne cursed night after night for the way she had disparaged Jaime and dragged him down to her level wasn’t the reason he lost his hand, she wasn’t the reason he was called ‘cripple’, she wasn’t the reason that he no longer had his sister and lover and child.

Jaime was right.

When they had sparred in the training yard at Winterfell, his eyes danced and sung, and shined with admiration for her fighting prowess while he threw his witty quipps at her knowing how much it annoyed her when he spoke and laughed during their bouts, taking her focus, even just slightly, off the task at hand and making her blush when he purred not-so-subtle comments about the way she moved and grunted, how her slicked back hair would become mussed, how her breath would escape her harder and faster the longer she fought.

“You look like you just got done fucking rather than fighting,” he told her once, getting the reaction he wanted when her face turned scarlet, distracting her long enough that he was able to move in close and press his body up against hers, holding his tourney sword up against her exposed throat, his right arm and golden prosthetic wrapped tight around her waist.

“I win,” Jaime whispered before capturing her lips in a heated kiss, claiming her for all the North to see and not caring about one of the stares directed their way as the snows drifted around them. 

Her first thought had been to push him away, scandalized and embarrassed at their first public affection but then she allowed herself to melt into the kiss, draping her arms around his neck as she did

_ He never got to go public with Cersei,  _ Brienne told herself not just then but every time his hand would interlace with hers when they walked down the corridors, every time he greeted and said farewell with a soft quick kiss, every time he stood or sat beside her and his arm would wrap itself around her waist and pull her in close so there was not an inch of space left between them.

But that day, when he told all of the North that they were together with the kiss that to him taking her out behind the armory, his eyes were kind and he wore a smile even as they clashed blunted swords together. He didn’t look like he had been on the bridge. With murder in his eyes, a snarl on his lips and danger lurking behind his smug expression that proved to Brienne that if she slipped up, even missing a single step, he would kill her. All so he could get back to Kingslanding, back to his duties of a kingsguard for his son, back to his duties as head of the Lannister armies and back to Cersei. 

If he had won that fight he would still have his hand, he would still be a golden lion, Cersei might still be alive, his unborn child might still be alive.

Jaime was right.

Brienne ruined his life.

The thought was a crushing one that made her weep, and the weeping in turn infuriated her because not for the first time all she could think of was the fact that Jaime Lannister of all people managed to make her cry more since the night he left Winterfell only a few short weeks ago then she had done in her entire life. 

After he left, Brienne waited until she heard retreating footsteps fade before she sank to the ground, pulled her knees to her chest and cried ugly, wrecking sobs that shook her entire self, body and soul. 

She cried for the truth of his words, for the cruel way in which he said them, for his self-hate and self-loathing that she couldn’t save him from, for the fact he had forced her eyes open and made her see the truth about his choices, for the fact he stood there and told Brienne he would have been better off had he won their fight on the bridge and killed her...

For the fact she didn’t think she would ever be able to forgive him, not even for the sake of the life growing inside her.

Brienne wasn’t sure how much time had passed but by the time she finally pulled herself up she saw through the window that the sun was had just started sinking below the horizon. She had wasted a whole day first being upset at the whole dramatics involving her father and then Jaime. The two men she loved most in her life she had disappointed one and ruined the other.

Slowly she pushed herself up but even that took too much energy and she felt spent and tired and haggard and rather than go through the whole ordeal of putting the ill-fitting armor and putting on a brave world to go out and face the world Brienne simply made her way over to her bed and laid down, not even bothering to undress herself.

She turned away from the door where she last saw him walk out and placed a gentle hand on her rounded stomach. Soon enough though the tears returned but rather than the heaving sobs from earlier they were silent and slowly ran down her pale cheeks.

Brienne didn’t even turn or blink when a while later her door slammed open.

“I didn’t give you permission to come in,” she told the intruder, her voice stuffed with tears, already having a fair idea who it was when she heard the heavy footsteps storm into her chambers without turning towards him.

“Who in the Seven Hell’s do you think you or The Kingslayer are speaking to Aileen like that?” Selwyn barked at her. Brienne didn’t turn to look at him. “First of all, she is allowed to call Kingslayer the title he earned with his dishonor whenever she wants.”

Brienne said nothing in response and instead kept her back turned towards him as he continued his tirade.

“Then he feels he has the right to chastise her and insult her? After he squirted a bastard in your belly and broke every oath he ever took, he feels he has a leg to stand on regarding moral judgement? I will not have it, Brienne, do you hear me? I will NOT have it!”

She should have known to bite her tongue, to just let his words wash over her but she was far past the point of caring about getting scolded for talking back.

“Was he wrong in what he called her?” she said without looking at him. “Was he wrong to tell her not to wear our sigil?”

“Someone has to seeing as how you won’t,” he said, ignoring the questions completely. “You’ll gladly wear the crimson belt and lion pummel on your person though.”

_ Jaime added sunbursts on the scabbard for me _ , she wanted to tell him, a small detail she noticed once when she was cleaning the red leather that brought a small smile to her lips at the time.

But she didn’t want to defend Jaime right then, not even to herself so she did as Selwyn had done and ignored the comment.

“She commanded I call her the Lady of Tarth. Unless there was a wedding I’m unaware of, that is still my title.”

_ And my daughter’s as well, bastard or not. Your paramour will not take that from her.  _

There was a beat of silence. “I was unaware she was calling herself that,” he admitted guiltily. “I’ll speak to her.”

Brienne offered no thanks and no other words, choosing instead to lay there in silence. She hoped she would hear the sound of retreating footsteps but rather instead he walked closer to the bed when she said nothing in response.

“Brienne?” His voice was softer now, more concerned. “Is everything alright?”

For reasons she couldn’t understand the question brought wetness to her blue eyes and a hard lump in her throat.

_ No _ , she wanted to say.  _ Nothings alright. You hate your grandchild and think of me as a whore, I ruined Jaime’s life, he wishes he killed me when we first met, the man I love refuses to see himself as anything but a hateful monster and I’m starting to think he might be right. _

She couldn’t help herself. Her tears started streaming down her face and a trembling breath left her.

“Brienne?” Selwyn tried again, his voice reminding her of when she was a little girl and he would find her in her chambers in tears thanks to the cruel words of the other children and he would have to coax the truth from her. “Brienne, what happened?”

Finally she forced herself to sit up and turned her head towards the Evenstar, tears leaking from sapphire eyes. “Everything,” she managed to say in a tearful whisper.

She managed to stay composed for a half second before the first sob escaped her and then another and the next thing she knew Selwyn’s strong arms were wrapped around her and she felt like a child again, breaking down in her father’s embrace while he stroked her pale blonde hair, lowering his deep booming voice to a soft whisper that there was no need for her tears, that “everything was going to be alright.” Brienne never thought of her father as a liar before but she was almost certainly sure when he told her that...

A month passed in a mix of boredom from the complicity and heartache every time Brienne happened to catch a glimpse of the maimed lion.

The day after the blowup Jaime had stayed outside her closed door for hours on end, begging her to let him in so they could talk and he could apologize until she finally couldn’t stand it anymore and shouted at Dust Maggot and Jaehaerys in valerian to please take him away. She didn’t emerge until the sound of his footsteps faded away and when she did, she saw a small bowl of blueberries at her doorstop.

They sat out there all night.

For a fortnight the cycle went on. He would stand outside her door, begging to be let in so he could explain and apologize, she would ignore him, and a bowl of blueberries that she never touched would be left for her.  After he accepted that he was wasting both of their times talking at her through a closed door Jaime would come round, give three knocks, wait for a minute and walk away leaving a bowl of blueberries for her in his wake only for them to be replaced with a fresh bowl the next night.

Davos’ offering of the small blue fruits every morning however was accepted with a grateful smile. 

She fell into an uneasy routine. Her days would be spent helping clean up the red keep which was, painstakingly slowly, beginning to look more like an unfinished castle rather than a rock quarry, the city following in its wake, and her nights would be split between training with Pod and carrying out the duties of the Lady of Winterfell sworn sword which mostly included sending coded letters Sansa was sending to the Northern Lord’s. 

Brienne asked her one day when the letter seemed to cause her distress what the contents were about but her Lady refused to tell.

“Ignorance can be a shield,” she told Brienne with an almost affectionate gaze towards the blondes growing stomach. “If the Queen finds out I’ve been sending letters and she questions you… When the time comes I’ll tell you everything, I swear it.”

Brienne didn’t ask again after that.

Her father, and more infuriatingly Hayden and Aileen (who didn’t command she be called Brienne’s birthright had made sure to wear the Tarth sigil as often as possible, practically daring Brienne to say something about it) stayed in Kingslanding as well. A week after he arrived Selwyn asked the Queen for leave for him and Brienne to go back to Tarth which she surprisingly granted. 

The argument that followed between Brienne and Selwyn where she refused to leave Sansa in the Queen’s clutches unprotected and her father saying she had more to think of now than ‘some dead woman’s child’ had all been for nought when during the night an unexplained fire started in the docks and burned the ship with the crescent moon and sunburst sigil on its sails to ash. Daenerys told them almost with a sneer, a complete change from when they gave them permission to leave days earlier, that they would just have to stay in Kingslanding.

After that Briennes days were also spent doing her best to ignore the increasingly paranoid Queen and more pointedly the scarred Dothraki leading her guard, who no longer even tried to hide his intentions even when they were in public rather than a lone hallway. Brienne gripped Oathkeepers hilt every time she caught him staring at her, glaring at him as menacingly as she could and he would infuriate her when he would merely laughed, not seeing her as anything even resembling a threat.

The fact that he didn’t seem to fear her even a little angered her and frightened her all at once…

Brienne could feel herself changing week after week. Her breasts grew larger than she ever pictured herself having and the pregnancy had managed to even give her curves that some might even consider feminine. Even her face seemed to grow softer as the babe grew inside her and always seemed to have a glow about it which would have been nice if that was the only change. Her feet had swelled to the point it was almost painful to be on them for more than an hour or so without needing a short break, she grew out of breath quicker, she was slower in the training yard and her muscles, especially the ones in her back and neck, ached to the point of near torment.

Eventually she got to the point where Brienne knew she would either have to find out a way to get herself and Sansa out of Kingslanding because she wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to hide it from the Queen.

The Day of the Mother, a date dedicated to the goddess and those she had blessed to carry and birth children, took place a month and a day after Jaime’s argument and Brienne never hated the holiday more. 

Growing up she had no mother of her own to celebrate with. While the rest of Tarth’s children would go into the sept and lay a white rose at the foot of the kindly looking marble statue of the Mother, Brienne would go to the top of the Star Reach cliffs where her mother’s, and all the Lords and Ladies and Kings and Queens of Tarth, ashes were scattered to the four winds so that they would be part of the island forever and tossed a white rose off its edge. 

Afterwards she would make her way back to Evenfall, ignoring all the women who wore a crown of white roses signifying they had been blessed by the Mother and given the gift of creating life or were currently carrying a babe, doing her best not to think about how the woman whose face was only a vague memory would look with a rose crown of her own.

And now, when it should have been her most memable, this one was shaping out to be the worst of all of them. She could hardly wait to be able to wear a rose crown on this day when she was a child and even as a teenager, of going to the sept and laying a white rose at the Mothers feet and ask for her to bless the child growing inside her and keep the babe safe. But as the years passed with no husband and certainly no suitors, she let the image fade from her mind. She would never be someone’s wife much less someone’s mother, that gift was reserved for fair faced beauties not hulking beasts like her. 

But then Jaime Lannister showed up with a pitcher of Dornish Wine and put a child inside her, an accident to be sure, but it happened nonetheless. 

But rather than being allowed to enjoy the day of pampering with her own crown of roses with him by her side, she was forced to treat today no different than any other day, her brow bare and empty while she watched the women who were allowed to proudly announce to the world they were or had been with child with envy and ignoring Jaime on the opposite end of the hall looking at her like a wounded puppy.

But thankfully tonight she was training with Pod in the all but abandoned courtyard which meant, as unfair as it was to her squire, she had someone to take her rage out on.

She was slower, expectedly, and her swings didn’t reach as high as than they normally did but her recent restrictions was evenly matched by Pod’s reluctance to spar with a pregnant woman. No matter how many times she told him it was fine, and as many times as she knocked him into the dirt for not doing what she knew he was capable of, he still hesitated in his strikes, he was more hesitant in putting power in his swings.

The courtyard was nearly abandoned when the knight and her squire went at one another, the rest of the men and women at the celebrations of the Mother, meager as they would be. 

Brienne tried not to think about how many mothers the ‘mother of dragons’ had taken away… 

The knight grunted and huffed as she swung her sword, her blow blocked by Pod’s parry. He pushed it back, moving into her and forcing her backwards for a moment before she side stepped him, swinging her sword down and having him catch it with the top of his blade at the last moment. The two blunted swords sang and screamed as the knight and her squire clashed their weapons together. Both of them slower and more cautious than they normally were given the circumstances but it still was an impressive dance to behold and had caught the attention of several eyes in the training yard.

As Brienne went to swing her sword down to land a stroke against his thigh Pod whipped his sword down with time to spare and blocked it, grunting as he used his strength to push her sword up, twisting the blunted weapons round one another quickly in an attempt to disarm her and had Brienne not had such a tight grip on the hilt he would have succeeded.

A thought crossed her mind that someday soon Pod might actually be able to beat her. Brienne couldn’t wait to feel that unmatched immense sense of pride and joy when that finally happened.

But today was not that day.

When Pod realized that he would not be able to get her sword away from her he pulled back, raising his arms to strike at her again, Brienne lunged forward and delivered what would have been a fatal blow to his side had the blades been edged.

“Shit…” Pod panted, letting his sword fall to the ground with Brienne doing the same, both of them breathing rather heavily from the excursion.

“You did very well, Podrick,” she told him after she allowed herself to catch her breath, hating that she felt like she needed to take a seat after just one round with her squire. He beamed at the compliment. “But do you know what you did wrong?”

“Yes, My Lady.”

“What?”

“I forgot to twist my form away from you before I lunged.”

Brienne nodded. “Very good. Now-.”

“I spotted something else you’re doing wrong.” 

Brienne stiffened as straight as her sword before she turned and saw Hayden walking towards them, the azure mail he wore making his pale green almost blue eyes look even bluer than usual. He had a hold of the rose colored hilt of his sword and that ever prevalent sneer that took away from the attractiveness of his handsome features was as prominent as ever.

“You’re sparring with a woman.” Hayden snickered. “Or at least that’s what she claims she is.”

“Ser Hayden,” Brienne regarded him coldly. “Shouldn’t you be inside guarding my father?”

“The Evenstar wishes to speak to you and sent me to come fetch you,” he told her before looking over at Pod and nodded to the blunted weapon in his hand. “Anytime you want to be taught by a REAL swordsman come find me,” he told her squire. “You show a lot of promise.”

Pod straightened himself up to his most absolute height. “I AM being taught by a real swordsman, My Lord. I’m lucky enough to be trained by one of the best fighters in Westeros and I’d rather cut off my swordhand then spar with anyone else.”

Brienne’s face flushed red with blush and she gave her squire a grateful smile.

Hayden just shrugged. “Suit yourself, it’s not my life being put at risk.”

After tasking Pod with checking in on Sansa before he retired for the evening, Brienne followed Hayden back inside the Redkeep. As they made their way to Selwyn’s chambers she couldn’t help but notice the gleeful smugness almost overwhelming him to the point it was comical.

“What are you so happy about?” she muttered to her father’s guard as they walked down the hall together.

“You’ll see,” Hayden told her, practically skipping to knock on the door, opening it when Selwyn bid the two of them inside.

His chambers were as plain as Briennes were but were a touch larger and had a writing desk in it that Selwyn sat at now, hunched over and writing something on parchment the size fit for a raven to carry. Brienne tried to get a glimpse of what the words were but before she could read it he rolled up the parchment and sealed it with rose colored wax with a sunburst in the middle.

He didn’t wear his armor for once but a simple rose colored leather tunic and plain black breeches with the Tarth family sword Moonbright fashioned around his waist that would one day be hers. 

It was a beautiful sword, with deep blue steel with trickles of red and black throughout the blade and the hilt was a dark blue metal and adorned with sapphires deep in its flesh that sparkled like the seas surrounding their island when the light hit it just right.

Brienne lightly touched the hilt of Oathkeeper as her eyes fell on her families sword, a weapon that was over five hundred years old and a gift from the Stormking to Waylon Tarth for his heroics during the Lightning War. 

Several of the Stormland houses had rebelled against the Baratheon king for their independence. Tarth was one of the few houses that kept their oath to the king and after the fighting was over had been instrumental in helping broker a peace between Stormsend and the smaller houses. Moonbright had been given as a thanks for Tarths honor, a gift for the Sapphire Isle not breaking faith and keeping their oath. 

All of a sudden Brienne wished she had worn her basic northern footman sword rather than Oathkeeper.

Selwyn looked up from his desk at her and almost at once Brienne knew something was wrong. He wore the same guilty look on his face that he had when Ser Humfrey had loudly proclaimed that he would punish Brienne for wearing armor after their marriage but Selwyn stood by and said nothing in defense of his daughter.

“Father,” she greeted with a polite nod. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“I did, yes.”

Brienne turned to look at Hayden who was fit to bursting with glee. “Is it something better said in private?” she asked turning back to the Evenstar who shook his head.

“This concerns Ser Hayden as well.”

Brienne held back a groan and a grimace. “What’s going on?”

The large man took a deep breath. “I’ve decided, Brienne, that it’s far past time you were wed.” Her face fell and her supper turned into a hard slab in his stomach. “I’ve made you a good match with a good fighter, someone who knows the isle as well as you or I.” His blue eyes fluttered to her stomach. “Someone who's willing to give your child his name.”

Brienne stared wide eyed and slack jawed at her father. “You told him?!”

“I assure you, My Lady,” Hayden said, his voice so full of snake oil it was a miracle it did not drown him. “I appreciate the position you’re in and the need for secrecy. Unfortunately Northmen and their wild bloodlust has been known to put many a bastard in a maids belly. I don’t blame you for falling victim to it.”

Brienne whipped towards her father who just gave her a look, a pleading begging look for her to keep silent about the truth of the matter, about the fact that she was carrying a lion of Casterly Rock rather than a wolves foot soldier.

“But I’ll be willing to give your babe my name so it isn’t a Storm and even name it heir to Tarth.” He had to bite back a smile. “Until my own son is born that is.”

“No,” Brienne said sharply.

Selwyn sighed, putting his head in his hand. “Brienne-.”

“I will not marry him, you cannot make me.” 

“Your child will be a bastard. You’ll dishonor yourself, our house-.”

“I don’t care. He will never be my husband or father my child.”

Selwyn narrowed his deep blue eyes at his daughter. “This is the best match you’re going to get,” he said rather sharply. “House Flatsun is a good Tarth house, Ser Hayden is a good man and an honorable knight.”

“Who has been nothing but cruel to me since we were children!”

“Boys can be unkind in their youth.”

“He just insulted me out in the training yard!”

Selwyn looked past Brienne, raising his brow at his guard. “Ser Hayden?”

“I’m afraid sometimes my sense of humor might be mistaken as cruelty but I assure you, My Lord, I would never intentionally insult the Evenstar’s daughter.”

Brienne rolled her eyes to the ceiling before she turned back to her father who looked less assured then he had about this decision then he had moments ago. 

She straightened out to his fullest height.

“I will not marry him and there is nothing you can do to make me,” Brienne said, putting as much authority in her voice as she could. “God’s laws and mans laws are very clear on that.” She turned towards Hayden who seemed infuriatingly amused at the whole ordeal. “And my child is not of the north.”

“Brienne!”

“She’s Jaime Lannister’s cub.”

She watched with amusement as Hayden’s eyes went wide with shock before she turned towards her father, shrinking back when she saw the ire in his but she couldn’t find it in her to care about what her father’s anger right now.

_ No matter what Jaime’s done to me, he deserves to be named a father for once in his life. _

Selwyn regarded her as coldly as he ever had before to the point a chill seemed to settle deep down in her bones.

“This your fourth betrothal I’ve made for you, more than any lord has had to make for their heir.” His words were sharp as castle forged steel. “You are not getting younger, nor more fair of face and now you have a bastard in your belly that proves you aren’t chaste who will compete with a legitimate heir one day. Ser Hayden is willing to look past all that and do his duty to you, to me and to Tarth. It’s time for you stop being so childish and start doing the same.”

Brienne’s face went flush with crimson and she used every ounce of strength in her to keep her lip from trembling.

“Had you remained a maid you could go on doing what you wanted with no input from me, which I have given you quite a large amount of leeway to do may I remind you, but you choose to dishonor yourself. This is the best match you’re going to have and you either accept it...” Selwyn took a deep breath. “Or I name Ser Hayden as my heir instead of you.”

Brienne’s big blue eyes looked at him with hurt. “You can’t!”

“I am the Evenstar, Tarth’s well-being is my primary concern.”

“And naming a peasant as its heir is in its best interest?”

Selwyn narrowed his eyes at his daughter. “At least he’ll be honorable when he rules, which is more than I can say for you at the moment.”

Hot angry tears filled her eyes that she was forced to blink away. 

“May I please be excused?” she asked, her voice stuffy and choked with tears.

The Evenstar regarded her for a moment before he answered with a curt nod and without another word Brienne turned on her heel and walked out of her father’s chambers biting back the tears that she wanted to let fall the whole way back to her chambers. 

When she reached her apartment she noticed yesterday’s bowl of blueberries was still in front of her door which meant Jaime hadn’t shown up yet to give her a new offering. Ignoring them as per usual, Brienne opened the door to her room and stepped inside, shutting it behind her and resting her head against the wood, letting a single tear escape.

Before the second one could fall, Brienne heard the creak of floorboards behind her and then, even before the thought that someone was in the room with her could materialize, a horse bone dagger was at her throat and a copper colored hand grabbed hold of her hair, yanking it back far enough that she was staring up at a scarred Dothraki face…

 

Please Review!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !WARNING! This chapter contains scenes of sexual assault

Brienne didn’t scream as her eyes stared up at Raeko’s scarred face. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t even blink. It felt odd, having to actually look up at someone that wasn’t her father. Even The Hound had only two or three inches on her but Raeko stood almost a head taller than her, and was more broad, more powerful and stronger than Brienne was, she could feel it... 

She swallowed hard, feeling the blade tighten against her throat.

“Horselord,” she said in a steady even voice that she hoped would hide her fear. “I am Ser Brienne of Tarth; sworn sword to Lady Stark and her sister Arya, companion of Ser Jaime Lannister and daughter of the Evenstar. If you harm me; House Stark, House Lannister and House Tarth will make sure to pay you back in full.”

Rather he understood the common tongue or not she wasn’t sure because he seemed to not even register the threat.

“No sound, Shekh Nayat…” he grumbled, his brown eyes searching over her face. 

Brienne took a deep breath. Lies had saved her once before, perhaps they would save her again.

“Rider,” she tried again, this time in Valerian. “My house is rich in sapphires. My father would pay you generously if-.”

“No sound!” he snarled, yanking her hair back to the point she was sure he was going to rip it right out.

_ He preferred the sword to words. Very well. Mother, protect your gift. Warrior, give me strength.  _

Raeko released her hair, letting her head fall forward before he moved his hand to the crimson colored scabbard at her waist, undoing the great leather belt and letting Oathkeeper fall to the floor with a crash. Brienne stayed as still as a calm pond, her breath slow and even. Her old Master of Arms whispered in her ear words he had drilled into her over and over.

_ Let them spend their strength in furious attacks, while you conserve your own. Wait and watch, girl, wait and watch… _

Brienne swallowed hard as she willed her body to stay still, staring straight forward, doing her best to keep her breathing steady and even as he rid her of the pieces protecting her forearms and shoulders. Those were simple leather buckles that even someone who never saw armor could undo but the breastplate…

_ He’s never had to undo armor before. He’s going to need two hands to undo the straps or he’s going to have to use his dagger. Don’t move. Just be patient. Wait and watch. _

Raeko grunted as he fumbled with the straps and ties holding the metal covering her chest to the one guarding her back. 

“Govak!” he spat, yanking at the straps so hard that she was jerked backwards and her breath hitched but her hands stayed by her side, 

Brienne closed her eyes as he grew more agitated and frustrated with the armor straps, taking deep steadying breaths.

_ Wait and watch, girl, wait and watch. _

He barked something at her in Dothraki, pressing his knife against her throat deeper, a threat she didn’t need to understand the guttural tongue to understand.

Don’t move, or you die.

Raeko took the knife from her throat and quickly went to her left shoulder, cutting through the boiled leather as quick as he could.

But Brienne was faster.

The moment the knife was away from her throat she dove for Oathkeeper, ignoring the furious Dothraki curses he spat at her. Her long fingers just grazed the lion pummel when Raeko grabbed hold of her arm and yanked her up again.

Brienne let out a loud cry, throwing her fist as hard as possible and connecting with his unscarred cheek and making him stumble. But when she went to hit him again he countered, his cut slamming hard into her jaw.

The crashes and hits came faster and faster from both of them, over and over, again and again unrelenting. Flesh collided with flesh and cries ripped fourth from both their lips as unrelenting terror battled against unbridled lust. 

The Knights blows came far more frenzied and wild than they usually did when she had to resort to her fists and nails but the stakes had never been higher, even when three of Locke’s men had her on her back, even when she went up against Greyworm’s sword. If Raeko saw the rounded stomach beneath her armor… 

Her old master of arms words were fleeing her now. Her emotions were running too high to listen to that voice in the back of her mind telling her to use proper form, to center herself so that his caught blows wouldn’t make her stumble, that a controlled punch would cause more damage than a hastily thrown one. Brienne couldn’t afford to wait and watch, she couldn’t afford to see if the large Horselord would tire himself out. She needed to save her cub and she needed to save her NOW.

And she was paying the price for it.

Her blows were coming slower with less power behind them and her blocks were coming later and later, fear and adrenaline only doing so much for her prowess until finally it wasn’t enough anymore. Brienne felt herself lurch forward as a wave of vertigo hit her so intensely that it was only by the grace of the gods that she didn’t keel over and vomit as her world jerked and spun maddeningly around her.

Taking advantage of her momentary handicap Raeko grabbed Brienne by the shoulders and slammed into the wall. Moving too quick for her to be able to block him, his legs moved between hers so that she wouldn’t be able to kick the hardening appendage between his legs. 

“Tikh chak!” he barked sharply, pinning her arms to the wall. Brienne wasn’t sure what that meant but she was pretty sure he was warning her against letting out what Jaime called the most easily recognizable scream in the Seven Kingdoms. 

So Brienne did the only thing logical when faced with that threat; she screamed. Loudly. Praying to her Seven Gods, the Old Gods, the Drowned God, the Fire God, to every God that might be up there that someone would hear and would come running.

“Govak!” Raeko hissed, letting go of her hand so he could grab hold of her hair. He whipped her head back and slammed it against the stone wall, over and over, again and again.

Her head exploded in pain with a blinding whiteness. It made her dizzy, it made her reel.The stars danced in her watery sapphire eyes and blackness threatened to overwhelm Brienne to the point of nauciuness. 

Her body grew limp and tired and even holding herself up took too much effort, far more than she possessed, and she slid down the wall, clutching at the back of her head, flinching when she felt warm sticky substance stain her hand. The room spun violently as she fought to keep her eyes open and she might as well have tried to move a mountain much less lift her hand 

She barely even registered being rolled on her back, barely registered the sound of him picking up his fallen dagger, barely registered the feel of him pinning her hands under one of his massive arms or climbing on top of her, pinning his legs in between hers. But the sound of Dothraki steel slicing through leather straps echoed in her mind.

“No!” she cried, her voice choked with desperate tears. She forced herself to see through the blinding pain and rolled from side to side, violently thrusting her hips up so he might fall off her to no luck. She wrapped her long legs tight around his waist, rocking him from side to side and almost managing to throw him off balance or at the very least flip it so she was on top but he grabbed hold of her to steady himself and went back to cutting the straps from her armor.

She started clawing and scraping and pinching his flesh so he might release her hands, doing whatever she could to get out from under him before he removed her armor but she might as well have attacked a castle wall. 

“Don’t!” she screamed as he cut the last of the straps, half blinded by tears and terror. “Don’t, please! PLEASE! JAIME!”

Brienne wasn’t even sure why she had cried out his name but it had been the first thing to come to her frantic mind. He had saved her once before and somewhere in the back of her mind she thought, maybe he might hear her. Maybe he might come running in, kill the man on top of her and take her in his arms before he touched her…

But that dream faded as quickly as it had come when he pressed the dagger against her throat before grabbed her breast plate and threw it across the room, his brown eyes going wide when he saw her rounded stomach.

“Please…” she begged again, tears flowing like rivers down her pale face. “Please don’t hurt her…”

“Mesilat. **”** Raeko’s eyes searched over hers. “Yeri mesilat…”

Brienne chin trembled. “Don’t hurt my baby…” she whispered. “Please, I’ll do- I’ll do whatever you want just don’t hurt her…”

For one blissful moment, Brienne thought he might relent. She thought he might walk away from his conquest, he might spare her the pain and humiliation, he might take pity on the innocent life growing inside her.

Then she saw him smile a wicked sinful sneer, his eyes danced with excitement and he took the knife away from her throat, choosing instead to press the edged blade against her stomach.

“ **_NO_ ** !” Brienne shrieked as loud as anyone had ever had a right too, a terror so absolute and ancient gripping her so tightly her that for a moment she might pass out from the shock of it.

Raeko took his hand from her arms but Briemme didn’t dare move or fight or do anything that might upset him. He put a finger to his lips then tapped her stomach with the side of the knife. 

“Sound?” Raeko grunted at her in the common tongue, taking the dagger and tapping his ugly scar before he rested the cool edge of the metal against her own cheek. “Fight?” He traced the roundness of her stomach with the edge of the blade. “Dead.”

Brienne had to choke back her sobs as she nodded, tears coming faster and faster now, blinding her. Raeko leaned back on her legs, barely pressing the edge of the dagger against her stomach but it was more than enough to stay any thought of fighting him.

His free hand went to the laces on his shirt, yanking them free and Brienne twisted her head so she wasn’t looking at his cruel crazed eyes and her gaze landed on the bowl of blueberries that Davos gave her earlier that morning.

Another voice replaced her old master at arms.  _ If you fight them, they will kill you. Let them have what they want… Close your eyes, pretend they’re Renly... _

She felt Raeko tear open her shirt and the cool wind against her bare skin chilled her like it never had before.The ever present daggers edge at her rounded stomach a constant reminder of why she was fighting against every instinct of hers. Her blue eyes closed and she willed her Winterfell chambers to replace the darkness behind her lids.

It was Jaime’s scent she inhaled, it was Jaime’s hand touching her, it was Jaime’s voice she heard in her ear...

_ “My shining knight, my fair lady, my sapphire beauty,” Jaime whispered to her as his hand deftly undid the laces on her shirt. His hand found her small meager breast and he was soft and warm and tender, lightly running the pad of his thumb over her nipple as he almost gingerly cupped her breast, bringing the pink bud to attention. He kissed her then, his tongue seeking permission as they ran against her lips which she eagerly granted him, moaning softly as he tasted her. _

Brienne cried out in pain as Raeko pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, twisting and tugging at the small pink nipple until it grew erect under his unrelenting calloused fingers. She screamed at herself to stay with Jaime. Jaime would save her, Jaime would keep her safe...

_ He was kissing her again. _

_ He was soft and slow and sweet. Everything was tender, everything was gentle. He tasted like that sweet honeyed wine he always had a cup with at dinner. Their arms were wrapped around one another and the scratchiness of the beard against her face was a pleasant sensation that extended when he moved his lips behind her ear, planting soft light kisses on her sensitive flesh. _

Raeko crashed his lips against hers, shoving his tongue inside her mouth. He tasted like sour breath and sweat and sex and blood and fire and everything that Jaime wasn’t. Brienne flinched, trying to pull away from him but his hand dug into her face harder and held her still as he groaned into her mouth, choking her with his tongue. He rolled his hips against her core and a new panic threatened to drown her when she felt his growing cock press against her thigh.

_ Jaime wrapped her in his arms, giving soft feather light kisses to her impressively long neck. His hand ran down between her bare breasts, even paler than normal in the firelight, her stomach, tracing the prominent muscles in her abdomen, and finally slipped his hand between her legs. He combed through her forest of blonde curls before slowly, as if he was afraid of harming her, rubbing his fingers between her southern lips.  _

_ Brienne gasped softly, lightly rolling her hips as her lover’s fingers encircled her clit, drawing fourth a river of sleek wetness from her before he slowly pushed his one finger inside and then another. _

His hand was at the laces of her breeches and they were undone before Brienne could even blink. Tears were coming faster and faster as Raeko grabbed the waistband of her trousers and yanked them down, using his hand to push them as far as he could before he used his feet.

Brown eyes searched over her body, starting at her chest and traveling down to the juncture between her legs. He stared at her with amusement dancing in his eyes before he grabbed her mound. Brienne choked back a cry of pain.

“Anha zhorre avvos ki jin chiori ma zasqa noreth hatif,” he snickered before he raised his hand to his lips and spit on his fingers before he went between her legs again, jamming two of his long thick fingers inside her. Brienne couldn’t help it. She cried out as he stretched her and twisted and thrusted his weapon of choice inside her. 

It hurt. Everything hurt. The pain radiated from between her legs to her very soul. She tried closing her eyes, tried to go away inside, tried to imagine that it was Jaime’s loving fingers moving tenderly inside her but it hurt too much, and Jaime would never hurt her.

Not like this.

“Jaime,” she whispered, too soft for even the horselord mounted above her could hear. “Jaime, please…” 

She wanted him here. She wanted it to be like the fair ladies and knights in the songs where the handsome gallant man in arms would come racing in and slay the monster from the other side of the Narrow Sea and rescue the fair maiden.

“Jaime…” she called out louder, tears escaping faster as he stretched and moved his fingers faster and harder inside her. “Please, Jaime. Jai-... Jaime…”

“No sound...” Raeko warned her as he finally pulled his fingers out and went to his own breeches where his manhood was straining against the horse fur and woven grass material. 

He freed himself in a matter of seconds and a sob ripped past her lips as she felt the heat and hardness of him press up against her. 

“Jaime!” Brienne was crying now, Raeko’s threats forgotten. Where was he? He always saved her before, he had always rescued her before. Why couldn’t he come now? Why couldn’t he save her and their cub? “Jaime!”

“No! Sound!”

“JAIME, PLEASE!”

A flash of steel, a spray of blood and Brienne screamed. Pain sheeted through her face with a terrible intensity and she felt blood flow thick and red and hot from the deep gash on her cheek.

Raeko slammed his hand over her mouth, her blood running over his fingers as he muffled the screams and tears. 

“No sound,” he growled again. The dagger now sticky with blood was put back at her stomach, the tip of it pressing just hard enough on her flesh to let a tiny teardrop of red escape. “Foal death.”

Foal. The common tongue name for a newborn horse, probably the only word Raeko knew that he could associate with a baby. 

Despite the sharp stinging pain in her face, her staggering panic and paralyzing fear, a stubborn thought came to mind. 

_She’s not a foal, she’s a lion._ _Lions_ _feast_ _on horses and my lion is going to carve you up with his teeth and claws and destroy you…_

Her terror turned to anger then. Anger that this long haired savage from the other side of the world would think he had the right to touch her and molest her, that he could get away with harming her and threatening _her_ _child._ She had the blood of the Stormkings and the Kings of Tarth in her veins, blood he had dared to spill.

She carried a lioness inside her, a lion choose Brienne to be his lover… And mothers and mates of lions did not sit meekly by in tears while a horse tried to mount them.

Closing her eyes, she parted her lips slightly, just wide enough where he might think it was terror and reached out with her tongue, letting it run over his fingers, holding back a gag at the taste of her and the horse lords flesh mixing. She slowly reached up and took hold of his hand, guiding his fingers into her mouth and running her wide tongue lick her juices clean, slowly pushing them in and out.

Raeko stared at her, brown eyes wide in bewilderment as Brienne took his hand out of her mouth, making her blue eyes go as big and wide as she could, pouting her big lips as she licked them clean, ignoring the taste of the blood that was still weeping from her cheek.

“No foal death,” she whispered in that breathless way that drove Jaime wild. She pointed to her mouth then to his erect and throbbing manhood once, twice, three times until she saw the realization in his face.

“Ijelat?” he asked, his brown eyes glued to her lips.

“No foal death,” Brienne said again before pointing to her lips. 

Raeko grinned a wild grin before he got up from on top of her and stood. He reached down and grabbed her by the hair, using the pale blonde locks to pull her to her knees, bringing her face to face with his member and holding his dagger to her throat.

_ Wait and watch... _

The horselord was longer than Jaime and bigger around as well. His was covered in thick coarse black hair rather than soft golden blonde curls and for a moment as she stared at it her panic threatened to choke her again but she took a deep breath and reached out with her tongue, giving the copper colored head a slow lick, just how Jaime had liked it.

Raeko groaned as she flicked her tongue against his flesh before she took him in her mouth, going down a quarter of the way down his shaft before pulling back and taking more of him in. She used the tip of her tongue to lick the underside of him and he groaned, thrusting into her mouth.

Raeko buried his free hand in her hair and pulled her deeper onto him and as much as she wanted to gag at the foul taste and fouler unwashed scent she forced herself to just breathe slow and steady. 

_ Wait and watch. _

He thrusted in the warmth of her mouth, wild and crazed for a moment before she reached up and covered the hand fisting her hair with her own, looking up at him with big sapphire eyes, a silent promise that if he let her take control, she would make sure Raeko would enjoy this.

Without taking her eyes from his, Brienne relaxed her throat and the muscles in her jaw, the wound on her cheek screaming in protest but she ignored the aching pain for now. Her tongue swirled around him quickly at first then punishingly slow as she took all of him in, letting him feel her mouth and throat around his entire shaft for a moment, her nose pressed up against her hard stomach, before she pulled back with a noisy wet  _ ‘slurp’ _ she figured he would appreciate.

At least Jaime had the times she did this to him.

Brienne may not have been an expert in much regarding sex or seduction or anything of the like, but the first time she asked to take him in her mouth and he came undone by what was simply instinct and what she thought her lion would like, she knew there was at least one thing she was quite adapt at in their chambers.

She heard Raeko groan appreciatively as her hands slid up his long muscular copper legs before she grabbed his ass, letting her fingers knead the hard muscles there before she reached in front of him and took the stones in her hand, massaging them gently as her mouth worked the pillar in such a way that she was sure he was seeing stars.

The hand holding the dagger flinched, pulling away from her throat just slightly. 

_ Wait and watch. _

She bobbed her head up and down on his manhood in short bursts and then longer, drawn out, wetting and taking in every inch of his cock. All the while her finger was lightly teasing the sensitive flesh.

_ Wait and watch. _

Her tongue replaced her hand, flicking her tongue against his boys before returning to his manhood and taking him all in, humming and groaning around him.

_ Wait and watch. _

The hand holding the dagger against her throat fell completely now, fisting her hair as she moved her tongue and lips and mouth over him and she watched as his head fell back and brown eyes closed.

Her hand stroked his leg, his thigh, his stomach before it slowly moved up his arm, covering the hand that held the knife. Her mouth moved back to the space behind the head, the most sensitive part, and her hand cupped his stones.

_ Wait and watch… now go. _

Brienne bit down on him as hard as she could. Foul tasting blood filling her mouth while she squeezed and twisted and yanked his boys as hard as she could, the same way he had assaulted her nipples.

Raeko was the one that screamed then. He yanked her hair so hard that she felt several pieces rip from her head but she didn’t let go and rather bit down on the flesh harder, feeling muscle and veins give way beneath her powerful bite. He tried to yank the hand that was holding the dagger away from her head but she gripped his hand tighter than any sword she ever held and bit down harder. 

He was hitting her now, wildly and crazed and screaming and sobbing, he was punching and hitting her head, her face, wherever she could reach and the blows were dizzying and painful but she would not relent. The more blood and bruises and hits he fell on her, the more blood filled her mouth. 

Her teeth went down further and he was shrieking now, the sound filling her with horror and glee all at once. It was so loud and so terrifying that she didn’t hear or notice her door slam open and was too blinded by blood and rage and adrenaline to see a green eyed one handed man and two unsullied guards run in.

Someone was trying to pull him away from her and someone was trying to yank the hand holding the dagger away from her hair away from her but she wouldn’t relent.

She heard her name screamed in a distance but she couldn’t make out who was calling her. Then someone was grabbing HER and pulling her back from Raeko but only when she heard the faint echoing of his dagger fall to the ground did she release him, spitting out a mouthful of flesh and blood.

It was too much, far too much, and her strength left her as sudden as it had come and the last thing she saw before her eyes shut and darkness overwhelm her was a terrified lion holding her in his arms looking down at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admit it, y’all thought Jaime was gonna be the one to save her. His wench can handle herself.   
> Also much as I HATE GRRM for disfiguring her cheek, like I hardcore cussed him out when I read that line in the books (and giving it to her after she saved a freaking orphanage at that), I also love that it proved even the most decent and honorable and kind and gentle people can’t escape horrors and I feel far too few people include her facial scars in fics, hence why she had to be disfigured here. Sorry Brienne :-(


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So let’s talk about the last chapter for a moment. Because I actually started crying at one point knowing how much I upset my readers.
> 
> First off, to anyone I might have genuinely upset or triggered with the graphicness of the content I’m sincerely sorry. As a survivor of sexual assault myself, I understand and respect your anger. I’m sorry that my last chapter triggered some. I, mistakenly, thought that since it was fan content based on a show like GoT with ASOIAF canon woven in that people wouldn’t mind it, clearly I misjudged the fandom, and that’s on me and I’m sorry. 
> 
> I also understand that scene was fairly graphic and I promise you I tried to edit it down to make it less so. At one point I was even going to just jump straight into the go between between Raeko and Jaime then fade to black and she was going to just tell Jaime she found the will to fight after Raeko called her baby a foal. Then it was just going to be her internal thoughts, then I was just gonna FF to Brienne laying in a healers room and we get bits and pieces throughout the fic… like I tried it SO many different ways and I really do feel the graphicness was needed to convey what I wanted to convey, which was that light switch in her after the foal comment, seeing her wanting Jaime to rescue her, seeing that her crying out for Jaime that gave her the facial scar (as opposed to him losing his hand for her) taking his advice and picturing him... But I respect and understand those who felt it was too much and I respect every one of my readers, rather they read it all the way through, skimmed it or just stopped midway through and stopped. So for those who felt it was too much, I’m genuinely sorry, and I understand and appreciate your valid anger at me and I apologize, truthfully.
> 
> About the warning… I genuinely feel like the authors note was an appropriate warning and I’m sorry if some skipped over it but it WAS there. That was the only chapter where there will be sexual violence so I didn’t feel like the need for a rape/non-con warning should be apart of it and you WERE warned in the top notes (not to mention the last chapter and the proceeding chapters I feel was leading up to an obvious assault.) But seeing as this upset a few of my readers I have added in the rape/non-con warning and I made the rating mature.
> 
> So in short, I’m sorry that I triggered or upset anyone with the graphicness and I promise there will be no more rape scenes. Also, not to give anything away but just remember it’s always darkest just before the dawn. 
> 
> Thank you,  
> Bellatrix Wannabe 89 (@LariskaPargitay)

He was wrong.

He didn’t mean to say that. He hadn’t meant a single cruel word he hissed at Brienne. He would chop off his other hand if it meant he could walk back the words he yelled at her.

He was wrong.

In truth Brienne had rescued him. More than once. 

She saved him during the long night, she saved him from the revenge thirsty Karstarks, she had cut down three men in half a heartbeat for him… And then there was the rescues that wouldn’t be recorded in history, that didn’t leave bodies and anger in their wake. She saved him from dying after they took his hand, convincing him to live, convincing him that he was more than his sword hand, more than the dishonorable kingslayer, more than a Lannister.

He was wrong.

Brienne saw the best in him, even when he didn’t deserve to be seen that way (not that he ever WOULD deserve to be seen that way.) She saw the honor that he thought was long gone, she saw the good man, she saw everything that Cersei said was no longer there, she saw everything that Jaime believed had gone away from him .

She had even rescued him from the lioness’ jaws for a time before he went rushing back in headfirst.

Brienne didn’t ruin Jaime’s life, she had saved it.

And he made her feel like shit for it.

Not only that but he told her that he wished he had won the fight on the bridge, that he wished she would have died, that he wished she had been a rotting corpse whose name he wouldn’t have been able to remember when the truth was he would carve his heart out and offer it to the Warrior if the God would keep Brienne safe. 

Even back when they fought he had a grudging respect for the woman who had managed to take out three men at once with rusted pieces of steel and stiff armor. He even had a fleeting thought as they fought about how much talent would go to waste when he ended her. But she had won. Brienne had prevailed, proving herself maybe not the better swordsman but she was stronger than him. 

Jaime thanked the Gods everyday since that she had been.

He wished though, that Brienne could realize he wasn’t the man she thought he was. Whereas Cersei had seen him as her other half and regarded them as two parts of the same whole, feeling he was just as unkind and dishonorable and hateful and sinful as she was, Brienne saw nothing in him but goodness and purity and light, a good honorable decent man who deserves love and kindness and forgiveness, she saw lies and failed expectations he knew he would never be able to live up too.

He wasn’t some weak helpless maid that had no authority that was controlled by his evil sister. He choose to push Bran out that window, he choose to love his sister, he choose to be hateful and dishonorable for her. 

It wasn’t fair that Cersei received the lion’s share of the blame, it wasn’t fair that he got to be absolved of all his sins while she continued to be hated and blamed when her remains were in a landfill somewhere spread out on several pieces of rubble.

It wasn’t fair that the best person he knew, who really WAS all good and all pure and all genuine decency and kindness, put him on a pedestal and believed he was just as every bit as honorable and innocent as her.

The day after he blew up at her Jaime went back to her chambers, bowl of blueberries in hand and sat out in the hallway for what felt like half a day talking to her closed door, begging her to listen to him, apologizing for what he said, yelling at her for not talking to him, apologizing for yelling and even calling out the word ‘wench’ for thirty straight minutes hoping he could annoy her enough to get her to break her wall of silence.

But all that got him was a tired voice, her telling his guards something in Valerian and then Dust Maggot and Jaehaery were leading him away from his room after allowing Jaime to set the bowl of blueberries down.

“I sorry,” Jaehaerys said in his thick Essoian accent in broken common tongue as they made their way down the hall.

“Thanks,” Jaime muttered.

“No you. Sorry tall girl. You ass.”

Dust Maggot nodded in agreement and Jaime rolled his eyes as they conversed back and forth in the foreign tongue.

That night Selwyn stormed into his room, grabbed him by the tunic and slammed him against the wall. Anger and hate and fury burned bright in his blue eyes and Jaime had to look away. He couldn’t stand seeing a mirror of her eyes looking at him with that much disgust and loathing.

Dust Maggot and Jaehaerys ran in his chambers, aiming their spears at the Evenstar, shouting commands at the tall blonde in their foreign language.

“Don’t hurt him!” Jaime yelled over their barked orders. If Brienne lost her father because his guards was protecting Jaime… 

He turned towards Jaehaerys who seemed to have a better, if not extremely limited, handle on the common tongue then his companion. “No hurt!” The lion roared. “No hurt!”

Jaehaerys glared at Selwyn for a moment before he barked a command at Dust Maggot. The two of them dropped their spears in synchronized fashion, neither of them taking their brown eyes from the Evenstar.

Selwyn barely seemed to notice the two Unsullied spearmen, not taking his eyes from the man in his grasp. His square jaw trembled with rage and ire.

“I pray that your daughter was never treated as cruelty as the way you treated mine before the Gods took her from you.”

The lion swallowed hard, that familiar stab of grief punching him in his gut whenever anyone mentioned his little girl.

_ Myrcella doesn’t need your prayers, Tarth _ .

“And make no mistake, it is only because the dragon queen keeps you an unarmed cripple that I’m not killing you, Kingslayer. Had you even a rusted dagger on your person my sword would be buried so deep in your skull not even the hilt could be grasped.”

Jaime said nothing. He just kept his eyes focused on a dirty stone tile in front of him.

“I’m asking for leave for both of us to go back to Tarth.”

Hope flooded Jaime for a moment. If Daenerys granted them safe passed, Brienne would be safe, their cub would be safe… even if he never saw her again, they would be out of harm's reach and that was all he wanted.

“The rest of the time she’s here you’re not to speak to Brienne or else I won’t care if you’re as helpless as a babe, I will bring the sun and the moon crashing down on top of you,” Selwyn said. “Do you understand me, Kingslayer?”

The one handed man nodded, not looking up from the spot on the floor until Selwyn released his shirt and stormed off, slammed the door behind him 

The next day however, he went back performing the same song and dance and getting the same results. He gave her a fresh bowl of blueberries, begged her to open the door, to talk to him, to acknowledge him at all; Selwyns threat be damned.

He could bring the whole sky and every star in it down and smother Jaime with it, he was going to talk to Brienne even if it killed him.

But there was nothing but silence and averted gazes whenever they were in the same room. Again and again, day after day for weeks until it got to the point where he would instead just knock on her door, wait a minute and then replace the rejected bowl of blueberries with fresh ones and walk away.

Several days later Tyrion ran up to him after court, wearing a rare sober smile and glowing with joy. 

“She’s letting them go back to Tarth!”

“Who?”

“The Queen! She was having a good day and he asked at the right time and she’s letting Selwyn and Brienne leave!”

Jaime wanted to weep with relief. A thousand pound weight was lifted off his shoulders. Brienne was going to be safe, his baby would be safe, Daenerys would eventually forget the tiny island out in the middle of the sea and let Brienne live her life in peace. She would be safe and happy and out of danger and so would his child. He would probably never see her again but it would be worth it if it kept her safe.

For the first time in months he slept without nightmares plaguing him.

He tried to approach her in order to say goodbye several times but she always seemed to be busy, running back and fourth with scrolls clutched right in her fists he was sure no one else was supposed to notice. 

The day before Brienne and Selwyn were set to leave he wrote to Bronn that morning to tell him that the betrothal Jaime had proposed to him had been set aside and that night after he heard Selwyn and Brienne arguing fiercely about how Brienne refused to leave Sansa at the mercy of the Queen and Selwyn telling her she had more important things to think about than ‘some dead woman’s child’, he wrote back to Bronn, dejected and miserable, telling him to disregard the previous raven and the game he knew Brienne would hate him for setting in motion was still being played.

Not for the first time he wished the stubborn wench could just set aside her oaths and promises and honor, just once. She kept her vow to Catelyn Stark, she got the Stark girls safely back home, she protected them, she defended them, she ran Sansa’s damned errands, she even defended their home against the dead.

Brienne was more than just a sword for wolves and it killed him that she seemed not to recognize that…

He didn’t get much sleep that night. Dragon’s songs were especially loud and when slumber finally did take him over he dreamt of dragon fire melting oceans of sapphires.

The next morning he awoke tired and haggard but he forced himself up out of the bed, preparing to either see Brienne off if she changed her mind to convince her that protecting their baby was more important than any oath she swore to a dead woman. Before he even reached the docks though he knew something was amiss. Sailors and dock workers were running back and fourth, dread on their faces and terror in their eyes and panicked on their tongues.

Jaime grabbed one of the men and pulled him aside, asking him what in the seven hells had happened to make everyone so anxious.

“Huge fire burned down a ship in the docks last night.”

Jaime felt the color fade from his face. “Which ship?” he breathed, a sickening feeling in the out of his stomach telling him he already knew the answer.

“The ship that Lord Selwyn sailed in on.”

_ The Tarth ship. Brienne. No. _

“Was-... was anyone on board?”

The sailer shook his head. “No one thankfully, it just had some trading cargo in its hull. Still it’s a pity, she was planning to sail back home today.”

Jaime thanked the man and he and his surprisingly remorseful Unsullied guards made their way back to the crowded makeshift throne room. He could see Brienne off to the side and Selwyn and his guards, who looked more on edge and alert than he ever saw them before, the four guards in full plate and mail and grasping the hilts of their rose colored swords while Selwyn kept a tight hand on Moonbright’s sapphire laden hilt, in front of Daenerys who wore a cruel mirthless smile as she told Selwyn he had no choice but to remain a ‘guest’ in Kingslanding.

Jaime met Tyrion’s tired bloodshot eyes and all the dwarf did was give his brother a sorrowful apologetic look before he cast his gaze downwards again...

The weeks passed in an uneasy routine. 

He assisted in the cleanup as best as a one handed man could during the day and his nights were spent alone in his room, resisting the urge to get drunk and annihilated past the point of sense.

Jaime once read that some Maesters thought drinking heavily was inherited like hair or eye color and after seeing the way Cersei and Tyrion inhaled wine like a fish drank water, Jaime always tried to limit himself on the off chance they might be right and he knew if he began drinking himself to oblivion every time he was upset about Brienne; he wouldn’t be able to stop.

Every night long after supper would go to Briennes chambers, knock three times, stay there for a minute, replace the dejected blueberries, and head back to his own apartment, flanked by his two Unsullied shadows, trying to give himself hope that she would talk to him the next day and if not surely the day after that…

He also sent out raven scrolls, hating the politics and the underhandedness of it all. He always left that to Tyrion and Cersei, he never wanted to play a part in the great game and now here he was using scrolls and promises and lies just like his father always wanted him too; all to keep Brienne safe… Back and fourth he would parry words, encrypted scrolls so that if the Dragon Queen were to intercept she wouldn’t be able to decipher the words.

Tyrion stayed drunk, Jon stayed sullen, Sansa stayed as frigid as The Wall, Brienne stayed looking down at the floor whenever he tried to catch her eye, and Jaime stayed desperate and increasingly hopeless.

Then the Day of the Mother came. A day where mothers were celebrated, hailed as heroes and The Mother was worshipped and white roses were laid at her feet. Women wore white rose crowns and, were supposed to, be treated like the Goddess Herself from their children and husbands.  

Jaime never really put much stock in the day. His mother died when he was seven and his father wouldn’t let him, Cersei and especially Tyrion lay a white rose at the foot of the statue in the Sept at Casterly Rock in remembrance.

“She’s dead, she isn’t going to notice or care if you lay a flower at a statue,” Tywin had told them. So for the first few years after her death Jaime and Cersei would sneak to Joanna’s grave and lay a rose at her monument. When Tyrion was five Jaime said he was going to bring Tyrion along with them so he could lay a flower at their mothers grave as well and Cersei slapped him so hard her nails cut his cheek.

That was the last time any of them did any sort of celebration for their mother on that day.

For Cersei’s first Day of the Mother celebration when she was pregnant with Joffrey, she wore the most gorgeous crown of white roses the realm had ever seen. Strips of crimson and gold silk flowed behind her like a veil and she wore a dress of pure white, showcasing the large baby bump she carried with golden hair flowing in soft waves. 

She looked like the Mother in the flesh, and Jaime had never been so in love as he watched her glow with love and actually smiled, a true genuine smile, as her delicate elegant fingers caressed her rounded stomach. 

He had never seen her so happy.

Brienne’s first Day of the Mother’s celebration pregnant however was anything but. She wasn’t allowed to show off her bump, she wasn’t allowed to wear a crown of roses in her hair, she wasn’t permitted to be pampered or worshipped or anything of the like, all because of the damn Dragon Queen.

Jaime saw her across the breakfast hall looking wistfully at the rose crowns some of the women were wearing and watched as her hand laid on top of the cheap oversized armor. She wanted to celebrate the life inside her and the fact she was someone’s mother more than anything and she wasn’t allowed to.

He never hated Daenerys more…

So that night after supper and after he gathered his daily bowl of blueberries, Jaime gathered up all the white roses that decorated the castle for the day and spare ones that he happened to find lying on the ground or on tables and took them back to his apartment.  It wasn’t easy with one hand and even less so with already used flowers and in the end it looked more like a child had attempted its first rose crown but it would be  _ something _ she could wear on her brow, even if it was just in the privacy of her own chambers.

Brienne WOULD be allowed to celebrate being a mother today.

After it was done Jaime took the bowl of blueberries and the childlike rose crown and headed down to her chambers, praying that tonight she would allow him in so they could talk. He was almost to her room when he heard it.

A heart stopping blood curdling scream that seemed to echo all around them, and it was coming from Brienne's room. Jaime never ran as fast as he had as he did right them, the Unsullied sprinting right alongside him. He threw open the door and froze at the sight in front of him.

Brienne was on her knees, in front of a Dothraki with a long braid that went almost the length of his back. He was hitting her, punching her, Jaime heard the bones in her cheek crack, and the scream that was coming from him was almost inhuman, loud and terrifying and chilled him to his very core. 

It wasn’t until he saw Brienne’s hand holding onto his hand so he couldn’t use the dagger he clutched did he force his body to move.

The Unsullied had already sped past him and was yelling in Valerian, one trying to pull Raeko back and the other trying trying to pull her hand away from the dagger but she didn’t seem to notice or care that they were there to help and kept a tight grip on his hand and her teeth bit down harder

“BRIENNE!” Jaime cried, running over to her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, trying to pull her away from the man she was biting. He might as well have tried to move a mountain for all the good it did him. She didn’t relent, not until Jaehaerys managed to yank the dagger from both their grips and threw it to the floor. The two knights stumbled backward and fell to the ground, Brienne collapsing on top of him. She turned her face to the side and spit out a mouthful of blood and the tip of the Dothraki’s member.

She looked up at Jaime for a moment. Blood and bruises completely covered both sides of her face, her left eye was swollen shut, and her pale yellow hair had been dipped in crimson. Her eyes found his for a moment and then they closed, and she collapsed against him, unmoving.

“Brienne! BRIENNE!” 

Panic and dread threatened to bury him and choke the life from him. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t even breathe. No… no no no no, she couldn’t…

He closed his eyes so tight it was almost painful. He wanted to sob and scream and cry and bury that fallen dagger in the screaming Dothraki’s skull after he finished the job Brienne had started. But he couldn’t. He had to stay calm, he needed to stay calm for Brienne and his cub. He couldn’t let her down again.

Jaime looked up at the two Unsullied men. Jaehaerys had grabbed Brienne’s trousers and was using it to try to stop the river of blood pouring out of what was left of his member while Dust Maggot held his spear at Raeko’s throat.

“Dust Maggot! Dust Maggot, I need a- I need a Maester, you need to go get a Maester!” 

Dust Maggot turned to him, looking at him like he just asked to unveil the secrets of life and Jaime bit back a scream of frustration.

He had to stay calm. Brienne needed him to stay calm, his baby needed him to be calm. 

“Sansa Stark,” he tried again, slower. “Do you know Sansa Stark?”

“Stark,” he repeated, giving a curt nod. He seemed to recognize the name.

“Yes, Stark. Go and tell her Brienne is badly hurt and needs a Maester now. Repeat that back to me.”

“Brienne hurt, need master bad.”

“Maester. Say it again.”

“Brienne hurt, need Maester bad.”

“Again.”

“Brienne hurt, need Maester bad.”

“Who are you telling?”

“Stark.”

“And what are you telling her?”

“Brienne hurt, need Maester bad.”

“Good. Go, now.”

Dust Maggot sprinted out of the room and Jaime turned his attention back to Brienne, pushing her blood soaked hair from her bruised and bloodied face and for the first time in years he bowed his heads and said a prayer.

“Mother, Warrior, please protect them,” Jaime whispered so softly he wasn’t even sure if he was really speaking, wrapping his arms around her tighter. “Please let them live. Please. Please. Please let them live. Mother, Warrior; please protect them. Please let them live. Please. Please. Please let them live. Mother, Warrior; please protect them…”

He repeated the prayer over and over. “Mother, Warrior, please protect them…”

Minutes later Dust Maggot returned, Sansa and Waldon running in alongside him. The moment the wolf laid eyes on the blonde knight she broke; falling to her knees and weeping, clutching the door frame and unable to look at the woman she thought untouchable.

Jaime saw tears shine in Maester Waldon’s grey eyes for only a moment before he straightened himself out, his expression fierce and determined. He clutched the crystal pendant around his neck for a moment and hurried over to the bed, clearing the blankets and pillows off and setting his Maester’s bag on the bed stand.

“Bring her over here.” 

The kindly Maester surprised Jaime, rather than the soft gentle tone he heard him spoke in before, now he was, powerful and commanding, like a general giving his soldiers orders.

Jaime grabbed Brienne under the arms while Dust Maggot took hold of her long legs and between the two of them they moved her fairly easily and laid her down on the bed. The lion knelt by her side, not letting go of her calloused hand and not taking his eyes from her face. His hand caressed her rounded stomach and tears leaked from his emerald eyes.

He heard his name being called but he ignored it. He ignored everything but the blonde woman in front of him and the baby inside her. He ignored Raeko’s screams, he ignored the fact his honorable knight was nude in front of not one but four different men, he ignored his panic stricken screams in the back of his throat guarded only by the fact he knew that wouldn’t help anything, ignored the drop of blood running down her stomach, ignored Sansa’s heavy gasping sobs, ignored everything but the shallow and slow rise and fall of her chest.

It wasn’t until Waldon placed a hand overtop his that he looked up from her bruised and bloodied face and his watery eyes met Waldon’s.

“You need to leave, Ser Jaime. I need to work on her,” he explained kindly but firmly. “Take Lady Stark and go. Please.”

Jaime just blinked at the ancient maester before his words sunk in. He had to leave. He had to leave so that Brienne and the baby could be saved. His trembling lips found her forehead, barely tasting the metallic taste of blood on her skin.

“Stay safe, My Lady,” he muttered, his words spoken so softly as if she was the only one meant to hear them. He pressed a gentle kiss to her rounded stomach as well.

“Stay safe, little cub,” Jaime purred before he stood up from the floor and walked over to the red headed wolf, gently grabbing her by the arm and pulling her up. She came up without too much fight and allowed herself to be lead from Brienne’s chambers.

The moment the door shut behind them, Sansa Stark, the Red Headed Wolf, one of only two living women in all of Westeros he wouldn’t mind cuffing across the mouth, who hated Jaime even more than he hated her, grabbed hold of his tunic and sobbed into his chest, her whole body trembling from the force of her uncharacteristic cries as she broke down in the Kingslayer arms.

Jaime stood silent and still, frozen for a long moment before slowly he wrapped his arms around the tall girl, stroking her long auburn hair like he had stroked Myrcella’s golden hair the thirty seconds he had been allowed to be a father to his daughter.

There, as the almost unnaturally impassive wolf wept in the lion’s gentle arms, Jaime remembered Sansa was in reality still just a young girl, only a few years older than he was when he killed Aerys, who had been held hostage by his sister and abused by his son, who had been through things no living human should ever have to experience, who had just seen her protector and friend covered laying on the floor covered in blood after having been assaulted and dishonored… 

Jaime remembered all of that, and held her as tight as he could, as tight as he would have held Myrcella, and allowed her to weep in his chest while his own tears fell on her flaming hair.

Hours later, though, any temporary truce between Stark and Lannister seemed to have been put aside. Not for the first time Jaime wished he had two hands to wring together. He was staring down at the ground, trying his best not to bring notice to himself as he and three others sat outside Brienne's chambers, waiting for Waldon to update them. 

To the right of him was Sansa, that emotionless cold stoic mask the wolf so often wore cracked and bleeding and rather she had allowed it or the force was too powerful, grief shined in her Tully eyes but her tears and sobs were long gone and she remained silent and still as the statues in the Winterfell crypts. 

Podrick, who had been told what happened, by Jaime once he calmed down was beside him on the left and every so often he would sniff and swipe at his eyes with his hand.

The rest of the group graciously pretended not to notice.

In front of him was Selwyn, large and looming. Sansa was the one to tell the Evenstar because Jaime wasn’t all that sure what he would do when he told him Brienne had been assaulted and Jaime had been the one to find her. 

He wasn’t feigning composure like the Stark girl or in tears like the squire but fury and anger and hatred was etched like stone in his features. His hand gripped the hilt of his sapphire sword so tight his scarred knuckles were white and his eyes held such a fury and ire that Jaime was terrified for the next man to slight him even by accident.

The four of them didn’t talk for a long while and choose to just sit there in an awkward silence trapped in an endless waiting for Waldon to come out of the room.

Sansa was the first to speak, her voice far too emotionless, almost obnoxiously flat. “I’m going to ask Daenerys for the prisoner to be transferred to my custody,” she said after a spell.

Jaime kept his head bowed, not offering a word. Raeko could die by dragon fire, Sansa could have the rest of him gelded, he could be sent to the wall; Jaime didn’t care two shits about him or his punishment right now. All he cared about was the woman in the room behind him and rather or not she would be alright.

“The King in the North Rickard Stark let his direwolves devour the man who assaulted his sister,” Sansa explained. “I’m sure Jon would give me leave of Ghost and the kennel-master could spare a few hounds as well.”

_ What was it with the she-wolf and using dogs to do her bidding? _

Although he couldn’t deny the thought was an intriguing one, there was one small problem...

“Brienne isn’t of the North, My Lady,” Podrick muttered, unwittingly voicing Jaime’s thoughts on the matter. “The man who… hurt her… should be subjected to a punishment from his own tribe,” he continued. “How do the Dothraki deal with… people who commit those types of crimes?”

“They’d ask how tight she was over supper and in nine months they cheer him if the woman he raped gives the hoarde a son and laugh at him if she gives birth to a daughter,” Sansa explained bitterly.

Podrick flinched at THAT word, THAT ‘R’ word that was cold and unforgiving and cruel, a blunt account of what had happened to the honorable knight. 

And a lie.

“She wasn’t raped,” Jaime muttered. He felt all three sets of eyes regard him coldly. 

“Are you suggesting she  _ wanted _ him?” the wolf growled.

“No I’m not,” the lion hissed. He looked towards the red head at that. He knew from experience, he knew from when Cersei would lay with him after Robert and Jaime fantasied about making their king match his sister bruise for bruise that Raeko didn’t take that step. 

The handprints on her shoulders and her thighs, the blood between her legs, her breasts black and blue to where they looked almost burnt...

“There was no blood, the bruises don’t match up. I’m splitting hairs, I know, but that part of him was never inside her sex, he didn’t spill his seed in her, he didn’t… She fought him off, she protected herself, she protected her cub. She saved herself before he could do that to her, and I don’t think we should take that victory away from her because of semantics.”

Selwyn threw a sharp glare at the use of the nickname for the babe but he didn’t care. 

No matter how much Cersei dressed them in red and gold with lion details in the embroidery and designs, people still described Joffrey and Tommen ‘noble as stags’ and Myrcella ‘meek as a doe.’ He would not let the same happen to this one.

Brienne was carrying Jaime’s cub, even if it wouldn’t have his name, and there was nothing Selwyn could do to change that.

“I’m sure her moral victory will be a great consolation to her,” Sansa said, sarcasm dripping off her words like fat into a fire. 

“It would be for me if I were a woman,” Jaime fired back. 

Sansa said nothing in response to that, just stared straight ahead again. He rolled his eyes and returned his stare to the ground, the group once more thrust into an uncomfortable silence that was disturbed only by Podrick sniffling.

“I never should have let her go with Renly,” Selwyn muttered after a while, gaining Jaime’s attention. The Evenstar was staring straight past him, his eyes biting a hole in the wall beside his head. “If I hadn't given her leave to go, she wouldn’t be here right now.”

“She would have left anyway, rather you gave her permission to leave or not.” Jaime met the old man’s eyes. “She’s obedient but she’s stubborn past the point of sense when it comes to the people she loves and she loved Renly.”

Jaime almost swore he saw a tiny flicker of a smile on Selwyn’s pale face, a micro expression he would swear later never happened. Jaime took a deep breath, feeling a familiar aching pain in the deep scar tissue of his stump. “If I hadn’t of left Winterfell though, me and her would be together, I would have asked for her hand when she told me about the pregnancy… I would have walked into that room with her, I would have been able to save her…” Jaime shook his head, the hatred and anger for himself growing every second. “This is my fault.”

“I’m her squire, it’s my job to protect her,” Pod muttered, a catch in his throat. “I failed her.”

“May the Others take you all!” Sansa spat, standing up rather abruptly from her chair. She paced between them, her sudden aggravation weeping through the apathetic mask she had trained herself to wear.

“My Lady?” Pod inquired, nervous. “Is something the matter?”

Sansa rounded on Pod then, a fierceness in her eyes that Jaime had never seen before. “Yes, Podrick, there is something the matter. YOU three are the matter!”

Jaime narrowed his eyes at the tall red headed woman standing before him. 

“Excuse me?” Selwyn asked, the shock in his voice barely hiding the anger. “My Lady, I-.”

“Quiet,” she barked. “The three of you, just stop talking.”

Jaime leapt from his chair, his hand curled into a fist he had been aching to throw at the wolf-bitch since the moment she sneered at him about how excited she was for Cersei’s execution.

“Listen, Stark, you don’t tell me how or when to speak where it concerns Brienne, is that understood?”

He might as well have been a child throwing a tantrum for all the fear or respect Sansa regarded him with.

“I will when the matters are something the three of you couldn’t possibly know anything about.”

_ Try again, Pup _ .

Jaime lost count of the times he held Cersei in his arms after Roberts drunken fumbles caused her pain, when she had been unable to finish him off with her hand or mouth and he took what was his by right. He had heard Rhaella Targaryen cry and scream and beg for help when Aerys mounted her (or used whatever he had on hand) while Jaime stood outside their chambers, forcing himself to go away inside, to think of Cersei, of Casterly Rock, of anything but his Queens screams.

And now Brienne had suffered the same. He couldn’t protect Cersei, he couldn’t protect Rhaella, he couldn’t protect Brienne… He couldn’t protect anyone.

“I know more than you think, Stark,” he settled on.

“Then you should know that right now, how YOU feel isn’t important. I know your guilt is real,” she said with a pointed sympathetic look towards Pod and Selwyn.

_ But not mine apparently _ , Jaime thought bitterly.

“And you know that if you tell her how you feel, how you wish you could have saved her, how you wish you could have done something different, she will set aside whatever she is feeling and choose to comfort you instead.” She glanced at the three men who had the grace to look rather guilty. “It’s not about what you wanted to do or what you feel. Don’t make this about you.”

Before any of the three men could offer their apologies, the door to her chambers opened and Waldon walked out. 

“Is she alright?” Selwyn asked the same time Jaime asked;

“Are they okay?”

Waldon held up his hand, dyed crimson with blood that he would need to scrub hard to remove. The sight made Jaime’s stomach lurch.

“Physically? She’s going to be fine.” The four of them shared a sigh of relief. “She needed quite a few stitches in his head and… and on her face, but short of a raging headache for the next few days, she’s gonna be fine, her and the baby,” he said with a pointed look towards Jaime. “The bruises and swelling will fade, but…” 

“What?” Sansa asked when Waldon hesitated. “What aren’t you telling us?”

The kindly maester took a deep breath, looking between the four of them. “He cut her face,” he said softly, as if speaking it aloud made it more real. “Deep. The same scar he wears, she’s going to bare it as well.”

Jaime swallowed hard, casting his eyes down to the stone floor beneath them. 

Brienne was self conscious about nearly every aspect of her appearance. Her straw colored hair, her broad figure, her lack of feminine curves, her smile, her height... 

No matter how many times Jaime called her beautiful, how many times he told her that her eyes were astonishing, how many times he looked at her like she was the Maiden made flesh, she refused to believe it.

Now not only was her face going to have a very noticeable scar but it would be one earned from a man trying to rape her and it would be a mirror image of her attackers own scars.

It would destroy her…

Jaime closed his eyes against the wave of tears that threatened to fall, remembering the wolf’s words.

_ It’s not about what you wanted to do or what you feel. Don’t make this about you.  _

He opened them again and his eyes found Selwyn’s whose jaw had the slightest tremble to it, rather it was from tears or fury or both Jaime couldn’t say.

“Ser- Ser Jaime said he didn’t think Ser Brienne had been...” Pod muttered, unwilling to say the harsh word, his voice stuffy, having a far harder time biting back his tears as the other three men.

Waldon looked at Jaime for a moment before he looked back at Pod. “He’s right. I examined her, there was a small bit of trauma but I don’t believe the Dothraki was able to finish what he started. Then when she awoke I asked her and she confirmed what I thought happened.”

“She’s awake?” Jaime breathed, emerald eyes wide

“She is. I’ve given her Milk of the Poppy, it’s perfectly safe for women who are expecting when you mix it with Rosemary root,” he said quickly, seeing the murderous look in Jaime’s eyes. “So she is fairly out of it and will be asleep soon but she’s awake and she’s asking for you, Ser Jaime.”

Sweeter words had never been uttered in all of his life. Jaime was about to ask if there was anything he needed to do before he went in and saw her but he was cut off with a rather sharp sounding, “no,” from Sansa.

Jaime whipped towards the tall red head, hating every Stark who had ever lived and especially the one in front of him.

“Brienne is my sworn sword, my protector, my  _ friend _ , and you hurt her,” she said coldly. “If you think I’m going to allow you the chance to do it again-.”

“You’re a long way from home, Girl,” Jaime cut her off. He gifted her that sharp Lannister grin that could cut steel. “And Starks don’t tend to fare well in the Capital. Remember that before you try to order me around, especially as it concerns Brienne.”

Sansa stared at him, the cool emotionless mask she wore fitted as well as ever but before she could respond Jaime turned towards Selwyn.

“You are the only one I’ll ask permission of,” he told the tall lord. 

He knew if it was Myrcella laying in that bed, Jaime would have cut down half a hundred men to be able to sit vigil at her side.

Selwyn stared at Jaime for a long while, not vexed or resentful but studying him rather and he shifted uncomfortably under his sapphire gaze. 

_ Why couldn’t she had inherited her mother's eyes instead? _

Finally after what seemed like a lifetime Selwyn gave him one curt nod. “Only because she’s specifically requesting it,” he clarified.

But he didn’t care if it was because The Smith had threatened to shove a hammer up his ass, he was going to get to see Brienne.

Without wasting another word with the wolf or Pod, Jaime took a deep breath and walked back into her chambers, shutting the door behind him.

Dust Maggot and Jaehaerys had taken a still screaming Raeko out right after Jaime and Sansa left but the blood and flesh she bit off was still a bright crimson stain on her floor but Jaime barely saw it.

He saw nothing but her.

She turned towards him and Jaime wanted to weep when he saw her.

“Jaime…” Brienne breathed, her speech slightly slurred from the mix of rosemary root and milk of the poppy..

Waldon had dressed her again, putting her in a blue sleep shirt and had covered her up with her furs. Thick white gauze covered her right cheek while there wasn’t an inch of skin on the left side of her face that wasn’t bruised or swollen or cut and her left eye was swollen shut. He could see the place where Raeko had ripped out her hair, leaving an unnatural ugly bald spot on the side of her head that would take a while to grow over.

Tears overflowed his eyes as he approached her bedside, kneeling beside it. He wanted to take her hand, covered in tiny cuts and bruises, proof of how hard she fought, but he hesitated. Cersei had welcomed his touch after Robert but Rhaella screamed at her Handmaids just for walking too near her after Aerys. He wasn’t which route Brienne would choose and he didn’t want to force her into deciding an hour after her attack.

_ “ _ My Lady,” he breathed as his eyes searched over her face. “My Lady, I’m so,  _ SO _ , sorry…”

Rather Brienne understood him or not she didn’t say.

“Jaime…” she muttered, her one good eye fluttering open and shut and Jaime knew she would be asleep fast. “Jaime, I didn’t...”

“Just relax, My Lady.” 

He wanted to reach out and push the straw colored hair away from her swollen bruised face, he wanted to tell her he would never leave her again, that he would stay by her side until the ages turned them to dust, that he was so sorry he hadn’t been there for her... 

But he held back, Sansa’s words echoing in his ears.

_ It’s not about what you wanted to do or what you feel. Don’t make this about you.  _

“Try and get some sleep,” he settled on instead.

Brienne shook her head. “Jaime, I didn’t...”

“What?” he prompted softly. “My Lady, What didn’t you do?”

Brienne’s one good eye stared at him, half closed with exhaustion. She placed a hand on her rounded stomach. “I didn’t let him hurt her. 

Tears leapt to his eyes and a lump in his throat made it difficult to swallow his sobs. 

“I didn’t let him hurt our cub, Jaime, I swear...”

“I know.” His voice broke. “I know you didn’t. Get some rest, My Lady.”

“I didn’t let him hurt her. I didn’t-... he never touched her, Jaime. Our cub. Our little cub, I kept her safe, I swear it… Our cub, Jaime, I-... I fought. I… our cub… Jaime…”

Her good eye closed, her incoherent words stilled, and when he was sure she was asleep, Jaime finally wept…

 

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	16. Chapter 16

Jaime never sobbed as hard as he did there in that room, the scent of blood so heavy in the air it was choking him. His entire body shook to the point of it physically exhausted him and his tears nearly drowned them. His cries were loud, embarrassingly loud, but he didn’t give a damn about whether or not anyone heard him. Let them mock him, Jaime didn’t care.

What had happened to her was worth his tears

Brienne had been assaulted, dishonored, humiliated, beaten bloody, scarred for life and for what? So some Dothraki could spend a minute or so fucking someone who didn’t want to be fucked? So he could feel a sense of power after he managed to subdue a woman with child who would have ended him within seconds if she only had to think of herself rather than the life inside her?

Big fucking man that one…

Why was it always the men who could have had the pick of the litter when it came to women who forced him selves on others? Robert and Aerys had been kings and there was no shortage of women, no matter how old or fat or ugly they got, who would have voluntarily laid with them. Raeko was a large powerful Dothraki Bloodrider and most women would have clawed each other’s eyes out to be with him, even with the scar. 

They didn’t need to hurt anyone, they didn’t need to take something by force when it would have been given up willingly by another but they had. They had forced Rhaella and Cersei and Brienne, the three women Jaime swore to protect and defend, two of whom he loved, on their backs and treated them as nothing more than a place to stick their cocks and he couldn’t save them, no matter how often Rhaella begged Aerys to stop or how many times Cersei paid Robert back by revenge fucking Jaime in the Kings bed when he left on a hunting trip or how much Brienne fought the horselord. 

How much or how often or how many didn’t matter. They had all been abused and hurt and molested and Jaime couldn’t save them. He couldn’t protect them, he failed them, he couldn’t do anything for them but offer his cock to his sister, his apologies to his queen and his tears to his knight.

Cock and tears was all he was good for when it came to protecting women he loved apparently, and he couldn’t very well give his cock to Brienne at the present moment so he settled for his tears.

Loud desperate bawling at first, then a steady stream of noiseless drops of wetness they fell on her blanket.

When his sobs had subdued to slow silent tears, Jaime rested his head against her rounded stomach, letting the drops of moisture fall on her skin as his hand caressed the the growing bump.

‘She’ Brienne had called it. A little girl, his little lioness, his cub, _their_ cub… His Lady was right. He wasn’t sure how he knew. He wasn’t sure how he knew when Cersei told him the sex of their children either but he knew then too, and Jaime knew the life inside Brienne was a girl.

Robert was determined to believe all three of ‘his’ children were boys, just as his mother’s had been, and her mother before that and her mother before that. He would not hear the Queen when he said that his second child was a little girl, ‘a beautiful little doe’ Cersei called Myrcella when she was growing inside her, and always with a silver of mocking that only Jaime caught onto.

But Robert insisted it was a boy, a stag as strong as he was. It wasn’t until the king returned from hunting, exchanging an arm full of fox pelts for Myrcella and saw nothing dangling between her pale little legs did Robert accept the fact his second born had been a girl. 

A girl with light blonde hair that would turn golden by her first name day and big green emerald eyes.

“Damn. Was hoping for another win,” Robert sighed as he handed the baby back to Cersei and walked off to go drown his losses in a flagon of ale and to find comfort between a fat kitchen wench’s legs.

Jaime wanted to kill him. 

This perfect little girl who was so sweet and pure and good and decent, who had actually smiled the day she was pulled from Cersei, was about as much of a win for a father who already had an heir could hope for. The day she was born Jaime already knew just by looking at her that Myrcella would be fair and graceful and kind and meek and humble. She would be the perfect little princess, the perfect little girl, and Robert was disappointed in that, and made sure to let Cersei and Myrcella know as much, as if it had been their fault the Baratheon pattern of three strapping sons had been ruined.

Jaime closed his eyes, letting more tears leak down onto Brienne's skin, but rather than darkness behind his lids he saw not a fair little delicate princess, but a beautiful little knight, with pale straw colored hair and sapphires for eyes, proudly wearing a Lannister sigil on her chest. 

She had Cersei’s chin and Selwyn’s lips, Brienne's long legs and Jaime’s hands and was laughing that same big laugh as her mother’s as she played with a wooden sword in the training yard and ‘sparring’ against her mother who wore her rare smile as she and her cub play-fought, Brienne’s face beautiful and happy and unscarred.

Jaime turned his head and lightly kissed her stomach, nuzzling closer to her rounded stomach and wrapping his arm around it securely. Brienne fought for her, she bled for her, she kept her safe, she went up against a Dothraki Blood Rider and their little girl came out safe on the other side.

“I’m so glad you’re safe…” Jaime breathed softly as to not disturb the sleeping woman. “Your mother won’t let anything happen to you,  _ I  _ won’t let anything happen to you… You’re so loved my little lion, my sapphire cub.” 

He took hold of her hand, running his thumb over the back of her hand, amazed at its softness. His voice was choked with fresh tears as he spoke but he pushed through. “During the age of heroes there was a man they called Lann the Clever,” he whispered to the little lion. “He founded our House, your House, using nothing but his wits…”

Jaime told his cub the story of the founder as soft and steady as he could, never lifting his head from her stomach, never taking his hand away. He only stopped when Waldon walked in and told Jaime that Sansa requested a moment with the tall knight. Jaime said she was more than welcome but unless they meant to drag him from this room then he was not leaving her.

The lion and wolf ignored one another the whole time Sansa was in there. She sat on the opposite side of the bed and held Brienne's lifeless hand, telling her sworn sword how proud she was of her and telling her how she wished she could have saved her from Raeko like Brienne saved Sansa from Ramsey. 

Jaime lifted his gaze, brow furrowed.

Brienne never told him he had been the one to rescue Sansa. All she had said in regards to the wolf was that she ‘found her’ one day and then they made their way to the wall.

Sansa looked up at Jaime then, her eyes meeting his for a moment. “She wasn’t lying at your trial,” she told him. “She saved my life. Ramsey’s men would have taken me back to him if she hadn't shown up and killed them all.”

“She never told me that tale.”

“Brienne said anything involving Ramsey wasn’t her story to tell.” A sad little smile grew on her ivory colored face and Jaime felt his heart break not just for the girl sitting across from him but for his own memories involving Brienne and that phrase as they made their way back to Kingslanding after he rescued her from the Bearpit. 

“Wench,” Jaime muttered to her one night after the rest of the men were asleep and the two of them were leaning up against a large elm tree. She grimaced at the nickname but stayed her usual protests. “What I told you in the bath, about Aerys… no one knows but you so if you ever say anything to anyone...”

Brienne looked at him, perplexed and confused and Jaime rolled his eyes, thinking she didn’t understand a threat when she heard it. He was about to use more specific imagery of having Ilyn Payne rip out her tongue when she said something that to this day shocked him.

“Why would I say anything to anyone?” she half asked, half demanded suspiciously, as if she genuinely couldn’t understand why Jaime would think she would share his secret. “It’s not my story to tell.”

After spending half his life in Kingslanding surrounded by spies and whispers and underhandedness and deceit and having to be careful with every word in every sentence because you knew somehow or another it would get to someone else’s ears, her response rendended Jaime speechless and his mouth fell open like a simpleton. 

This woman was just so GOOD that she couldn’t comprehend why someone would be nervous about a secret being spilled because she would never even think about betraying someone’s confidence, she would never gossip, she would never think about breaking a promise she made or ‘tell a story that wasn’t hers to tell.’

Jaime closed his mouth and stared at her for a moment and she leaned away from him, uncomfortable with the way he was gaping at her. Her fist wrapped around a heavy stick that sat beside her, her only means of protection after Locke took away her sword and dagger, before she rolled over to try to get some sleep, very conscious of the emerald eyes still staring at her.

“She was the first person since my father died who only wanted to protect me out of love,” Sansa continued, drawing Jaime from his memories, looking down at the sleeping woman. “She didn’t have an ulterior motive, she never whispered behind my back, I was never a bargaining chip to her, I never had to be careful of my words around her because I knew they would never get back to someone they weren’t supposed to… She was my first pure friend in this world.”

_ Your first pure friend and my first pure love. _

That stoic mask cracked with tears that would not fall and her voice trembled. “She deserves better than what that Dothraki did to her. She deserves better than everything the Gods saw fit to put her through.” Sansa met his eyes again. “She deserves better than you.”

Her cold words barely touched him. 

Jaime returned his gaze to Brienne, taking hold of her scarred and bandaged hand again.

“You’ll get no argument from me on that, Stark.” 

A few minutes after that, Sansa pressed a kiss to her bruised and cut forehead and left the room, pausing to look back at Jaime who hardly seemed to notice her exit.

The moment the door shut, Jaime returned to his previous position from before the Wolf came in. His head rested against her rounded stomach and tracing the same lazy circles on the hand he held, his right arm wrapped possessively around her stomach, continuing his tales of their House.

He made it all the way to King Loreon Lannister II, who held the first tourney ever seen in the Westerlands, when Waldon walked in with his Maesters bag, interrupting the story Jaime was telling the cub. 

“Ser Jaime,” the Maester greeted him as friendly as he could given the circumstances. Jaime lifted his head from her stomach and gave him a nod of acknowledgement as he shut the door behind him.

“When will she wake up?” Jaime asked as Waldon walked around to the other side of the bed. “She’s been out for a few hours.”

“That is the idea,” Waldon said as he set the bag on the stand, taking out a clean fresh bit of gauze and a jar full of thick dark red salve and a small vile of milk of the poppy mixed with the rosemary root to make it safe. “He broke this bit here.” He ran a finger along the bone in her cheek. “It’ll heal in time, but the plan for now is to keep her out with milk of the poppy until the worst of the pain fades and some of the swelling in the rest of her face goes down.”

“How long will that take?”

“A week or so.” He pulled out another jar of cream, this one smoother and creamer and a pale green color with flecks of dark blue crystals that smelled overwhelmingly of mint. “It’s more for her comfort than anything.”

“And you’re SURE what you’re giving her isn’t harming the baby?”

Waldon looked up at that. “Ser Jaime, I pulled Brienne from her mother,” he told him, almost sharply. “I watched her grow up, I was her educator, I was there to comfort her when her brother and sisters died, I was there to comfort her when her mother died three weeks after the twins passed, I lied to my sworn Lord then traveled North to be with her during her pregnancy simply because she asked me to. I love this girl like a daughter.  Do you really think I would do something to put her or her child in danger? Even unintentionally?”

Jaime lowered his head, guilt that he had ever questioned the man eating at him. “No,” he muttered. Then he added, “forgive me.”

Waldon eyed him for a moment before he turned back to the task at hand. “You’re forgiven.”

Jaime watched in silence as Waldon slowly removed the gauze from her face. 

He swallowed hard when he saw the wound. It had been stitched up with as small as stitches as the old maester could manage but the skin around it was inflamed and swollen, and it traveled the entire length of her cheek starting from just below her eye socket and coming to a stop at the corner of her broad jaw, nearly a mirrored image of the man who gave it to her.

When the cut healed it would be deep and blinding white against her pale skin and ugly to boot, and she kept her hair too short to try to hide it even when it wasn’t slicked back but messy and hanging loose in her face like it was now.

Waldon teaches over and placed a old hand on top of Jaime’s so that his attention was on the maester instead. “Half an inch higher and he would have cut her eye,” Waldon said gently. “The one physical aspect she likes about herself he would have taken from her but he didn’t, she still gets to have eyes that not even the cruelest man alive is able to insult. She’s going to be grateful for that.”

Jaime didn’t say a word at that. He just turned his attention back to the sleeping knight, watching as Waldon dipped his fingers into the red salve and spread it it thick and heavy across the cut before he laid fresh bandages over top of it. He took the jar of the green mint like concoction and gently rubbed it on her shut eye, her broken cheek and the places where the swelling was most prominent, rubbing it in until it disappeared into her skin.

“I’ve never seen healing salvants like those before,” Jaime said, grabbing the green jar and examining it.

“They’re of my own creation,” Waldon said as he poured a trickle of milk of the poppy and rosemary root into her mouth. “Red is made from a variety of dornish spices to help prevent any sort of infection and the green is made from winter-mint leaves. It cools the skin to help bring down swelling.”

Jaime handed him back the salve. “Not very many Maesters possess the knowledge to be able to create their own stock,” he said impressed.

“Yes well, when you’re the second son and your older spoiled brother lived to torment you, you spend a lot of your time in your room reading books trying to avoid him.”

“What is your House by the way?”

Waldon looked up from packing away his bag, giving him a rather sad smile. “My father’s father was Cleos, my father was Merrett, and my older brother... was Walder.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide and Waldon nodded, already knowing the question before it was asked. “One in the same, I’m afraid.”

“You-… but-...Do the Stark girls-?”

“Know I’m the younger brother of the man who violated sacred guest right and slaughtered Catelyn and Robb Stark? They’re aware. But Brienne vouched for me when I arrived in the north and seeing as how I’ve been on Tarth the last forty three years serving Lord Selwyn and before him his father Lord Aerion, may he rest amongst the stars, without a single raven to or from my brother or any of his far too numerous offspring, they knew not to blame me for what happened. Although my first morning in Winterfell I did wake to find a slice of pie on my bed-stand and a note from Arya Stark telling me ‘the north remembers’. I had enough sense to figure out what it meant.”

“Arya’s back up north?”

Waldon nodded. “‘There must always be a Stark in Winterfell’. Sansa was summoned south so Arya choose to stay behind and guard the den and Brienne choose to follow Sansa.”

“Well when you kill the Night King, have the respect of every living Northman and a hundred songs are already being written about you ‘bringing the dawn’, I don’t really think you need a bodyguard.”

“No I suppose not.” The Maester glanced at Jaime as he closed his bag. “What was it like?”

“What was what like?”

“Fighting the dead.”

“Terrifying,” Jaime answered, thinking of the mob of dead men swarming over Brienne. “But the battle was surprisingly short.”

“Really?”

“Mmm. You would think the second coming of The Long Night would have lasted longer than a few hours but no.”

Waldon chuckled at that but when he looked down at Brienne, any hint of amusement or laughter died as suddenly as it came. Jaime followed his gaze and it was as if he felt the light leave his eyes.

“I’ll ask one of the servants to being an extra bed up,” Waldon said without turning away from Brienne. “Unless l’m mistaken, I don’t believe you’re going to be leaving this room anytime soon.”

Jaime thanked the Maester and as he stood up he spoke again.

“I’ll do the ointments,” he told Waldon, earning a soft smile from the old man. “Show me how.”

So he did, explaining just how much to use, how often, how to apply it as to not agitate her skin further. The red is applied every twelve hours with fresh bandages and was to be left in a solid mass on the scar, the green every six and had to be rubbed into her swollen skin like a lotion. But one thing he would not show Jaime how to administer was the milk of the poppy.

“It has to be specially mixed with the root in exact amounts so it’s safe for the baby and has to be given in a way that won’t choke her when she drinks it. Do you trust yourself to do that?”

“No,” Jaime said at once as he took the jars and bandages from him and set it beside him. “I’ll leave that up to you.”

After he made Jaime demonstrate that he knew how to apply the medicines he  _ did _ trust himself with, Waldon took his leave and when he did, Jaime turned back towards the sleeping knight. 

“Everyone you meet seems to fall in love with you,” he told her, pushing her hair from her face. He smiled sadly. “I tend to have the exact opposite effect on people.” Jaime pursed his lips, fighting back his tears. “Except on you. You fell in love with me despite all the reasons you shouldn’t have. In Winterfell you asked me so many times how I could have ever fallen in love with you, how I could love someone so ‘unattractive’ and I always told you that i think you’re beautiful, and I know you don’t believe me but you are Brienne. 

You are, and you’re so much more than that; you have a beautiful heart and a beautiful mind and beautiful soul and I love you for all of that. Just like I know you love me because of something you see inside me that I can’t see myself, something that Cersei and my father convinced me didn’t exist anymore. But you saw it. You still see it, despite everything I’ve done to you, despite the fact I left you, despite the fact destroyed you, despite the fact I destroyed  _ us _ … Over a hateful woman who paid a man to murder me.”

Jaime blinked away his tears, taking her hand again. “You shouldn’t have been asking why I fell in love with you, I should have been asking you how you could be in love with me. You’re  _ good _ , Brienne, and you’re decent and loyal and honorable… you’re everything a person should be, you’re everything I’m not. I should have been asking you how you could you love a man so hateful and wrong? I should have been asking why would the future Evenstar want to be with the likes as me?”

He sighed, resting his head against her stomach again, cradling his useless right arm around her growing bump. “It’s much easier to confess feelings when you’re sleeping,” he muttered. “As much as I can’t wait for you to wake up, it’s nice being able to speak without worrying about messing everything up… Anyway.” He turned his attention to her stomach again, lightly pressing his lips to it. “I could tell you about King Tywell Lannister II. A Nightwatchman served the king his sons in a pie and tricked him into eating it. He violated guest rights so the Gods turned him into a rat who can only eat his own young as punishment. Truthfully all that story ever taught me was Lannister’s should never trust food given to them from the Nightswatch so keep that in mind if Jon Snow or Samwell Tarly ever offers you a piece of pie.” 

That was how the hours passed. 

His head resting against her stomach, telling his little cub stories about the proud Lannister house, his fingers drawing lazy on the back of the hand he held. Jaime did the salves when he was supposed to, using far too little red and far too much green and then forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to rub the red into her skin and he wasn’t supposed to let the green sit, but the ointments were applied exactly on the hour they were supposed too.

Waldon has a bed sent up that Jaime had placed right beside hers to where if a man wasn’t looking hard enough might have mistaken the two small beds for one large one and would have thought they were lying together as lovers do. Then an hour after the bed was brought in, a kitchen wench arrived with a plate full of herb crusted chicken and boiled potatoes with butter along with a bottle of wine that wasn’t Arbor Gold but not the grape piss he had been drinking and a slab of brown bread and hard cheese.

Judging by the lack of reaction she had to Brienne he correctly assumed she had been warned against commenting or staring.

“Tell Maester Waldon thank you for sending me supper,” Jaime told the girl as she handed him the tray.

She looked at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “It wasn’t a maester who sent this up, My Lord. It was Sansa Stark.” 

Halfway during dinner the poppy milk dreams seemed to finally take hold of her. She was drenched in a cold sweat and she laid there gasping for breath, clenching her hands into fists and whimpering as if something, or someone, was hurting her. It ceased after a while but Jaime would be forever haunted by her terrified cries, knowing that he not only couldn’t do anything for her but she wouldn’t be able to force herself to wake from them.

He combed the knots from her short blonde hair every night before he went to bed, he changed her sleep shirt every morning, he washed her face and cleaned her when she made water. 

Waldon came in each afternoon to trickle a swallow of poppy milk into her mouth, Sansa came in to visit several times, as had Pod who the first time he saw her he broke down in tears and apologized over and over for not protecting her and for failing her.

The knight had the decency to look away at that, and afterwards the squire muttered an apology to Jaime and promised Brienne that he was looking after Sansa almost as well as she usually did. She didn’t trust him with the letters or ravens or anything incredibly sensitive but he was making sure she was safe. 

Jaime couldn’t help but notice the way Pod’s eyes almost seemed to light up when he talked about his time alone with the she-wolf, and he had a feeling that it wasn’t because he was so enamored with the idea of fetching Lady Stark blank raven scrolls.

He wondered if Brienne realized yet that her squire had started to fall for the girl she was sworn to protect? The thought was an amusing one to be sure. Podrick Payne, faithful fumbling squire, and Sansa Stark, the steel faced Lady of the North, a true winter beauty.

Sansa would eat him alive. If she even showed more than anything except disinterest and disdain towards the man from a low branch of a low house, a house sworn to Lannister at that.

To be fair Jaime only really knew the girl when she was a child as they traveled on the Kingsroad, all disdain and disgust for mud and sweat and riding and anything ‘improper’, not even bothering to know the names of the servents at the castle, giggling with her friends at the lowborn accents and being far ruder than he would have ever thought a child of Ned Stark’s could be. 

But that was years and years ago, back when she was a starry eyed child with dreams of being queen and Jaime was a golden lion who fantasied about marrying Cersei in the Casterly Rock sept. They had both grown up and changed drastically, Sansa at least more for the better than for the worse.

Maybe she had changed enough that Pod wouldn’t be utterly humiliated if he tried to woo the wolf.

The squire left soon after, with promises to return tomorrow to ‘update’ her, and Jaime was left alone with his knight again.

On the third morning Jaime awoke as he always did, and he leaned over the side of his bed to press his lips to her forehead.

“Good morning, my sapphire beauty,” he whispered softly.

“Morning to you too, Kingslayer.”

Jaime whipped his head towards the voice and found Selwyn sitting by Briennes bedside looking rather unamused at the lion.  Jaime sat up in the bed at quick as he could, clearing his throat.

“My Lord,” Jaime muttered, rubbing his hand over his face, hoping to hide his blush. “Good morning.”

Selwyn just stared at him for a moment before he turned back to Brienne who, Jaime had noticed, already had her bandage changed and the smell of mint coming from her told him the green ointment had already been applied as well.

“You changed her bandages?” 

“I did.”

“Did Maester Waldon show you how to apply the salve? Because it’s rather tricky.”

A hint of smile tugged his large lips upwards. “You think this is the first time she or I needed swellings and bruises to go down after a fight or had a cut that needed to be protected against infections? The first few months I allowed her to train with my Master of Arms it was like I was living in a forest of mint she needed so much of the stuff. Trust me, Kingslayer, I’m very well acquainted with Maester Waldons ‘red and green’ method.”

“He’s a smart man.”

“He is. House Tarth was very fortunate in landing him. He’s very wise, very learned, a good adviser, he’s always been very kind and loving towards Brienne…” Selwyn dropped his gaze from his daughter’s face for a moment. “He’s one of the very few people in the world who have always treated her decently,” he muttered.

Jaime bowed his head, letting his guilt eat at him for the way he treated Brienne not only when they first met but after he had fallen in love with her which was far worse then trading insults with the woman holding you captive. What kind of man hurts the woman he’s in love with?

_ A coward would. And that’s what you are. A coward. _

Selwyn’s eyes drifted to her rounded stomach and Jaime’s followed them. 

“I never should have called her a whore,” Selwyn finally said. “It was cruel and unworthy of me.”

Jaime said nothing, just kept his eyes on her stomach. “But the baby felt like a betrayal. It still does,” he admitted. “I gave her all this freedom, freedom that others mocked me for giving, but I didn’t care because she composed herself with honor and dignity. Then the first time I see her in years she turns up pregnant and unwed, pregnant by a less than reputable man at that… and now there’s this.”

Jaime’s head whipped up and he narrowed his eyes at the large man sitting across from him.

“What happened to her has nothing to do with how honorable she is.”

“I’m aware of that, Kingslayer, and I never said anything of the sort. But some men  _ would _ say that, and they’re going to tell her as much.”

“Then those men can defend their words with their swords.”

“How many times can she be expected to pick up a sword and fight words?”

Selwyn looked back at Brienne’s face, letting his eyes run over the thick white gauze covering her scar. 

“She was seven the first time someone called her ‘ugly’,” Selwyn said suddenly. Jaime looked up at him then. “She was a seven year old girl, and the son of one of the stable boys was nine. She beat him in a footrace that he challenged her to, why he asked her to race I don’t know, even when she was young she had longer legs than I’d ever seen on a child, he had no chance of winning. But she won so he decided to insult her. Brienne ran in to tell me, she was crying, and I held my little girl in my lap and told her that ‘words were wind, Brienne. They can’t ever hurt you unless you allow it’.” His blue eyes were brimming with wetness. “I didn’t realize until years later that I never even told her that he was wrong.”

Jaime bowed his head for a moment before he reached over and grabbed the wine that Sansa sent him earlier, pouring the large Evenstar a glass but he declined with a shake of his head, blinking away his tears and taking a deep breath.

“No, thank you, I don’t partake.”

“What is it with your family and not drinking?”

“It dulls the senses.”

“That’s precisely the point.” Jaime held it out again. “Its bad manners to refuse a Lord’s offer.”

Selwyn regarded him with the same annoyed look that Brienne gave him when he asked if Tormund had ‘grown on her’ and he had to bite his lip to keep from smiling as he handed over the glass of wine before he poured himself one.

The two sat in silence for a long while with only the occasional sips of wine that Selwyn was drinking far too slowly. After a while the overwhelming quiet got to be too much for Jaime and took a long deep swallow before he spoke.

“I planned to marry her,” he said suddenly. This time Selwyn turned to look at her. “Even before I knew about the baby. I thought about it, I dreamt about it… I would have made her happy if I hadn’t of messed everything up.”

“But you did though. You left her sobbing at the Winterfell gates so you could die with your sister.”

“I know that,” Jaime said heatedly. “And I was trying to fix it until…”

“Until you told her she ruined your life and you wish she was dead.”

Jaime flinched, his own words sending an unpleasant shiver down his spine as they were thrown back at him. “I will spend the rest of my days regretting what I said to her,” he told him. “I didn’t mean any of it, if I could take it all back I would.”

“But you can’t. You’re a man without honor, Kingslayer, or a tender heart.” He said it calmly, without anger, like the fact that Jaime was a dishonorable oathbreaker was a physical trait he just had to accept. “And Brienne deserves better than that, you know she does.” A long drink of wine. “That’s why I’m bethrothing her to Ser Hayden.”

Jaime’s eyes went wide and his jaw dropped.

“You can’t!”

“Excuse me?”

Jaime heard the warning in his voice but he ignored it. The thought of Brienne marrying anyone but him, kissing another man, fucking another man,  _ loving  _ another man…. that could not happen.

“Set Hayden is-.”

“Who the fuck is Ser Hayden?!”

Selwyn glared across the bed at Jaime. “Ser Hayden Flatsun, the head of my guard. He’s a good man, an honorable knight, he grew up on Tarth and he promised to give the child his name and name him his heir until his own son is born to him.”

“It’s a girl! And she has a father already, she doesn’t need another name, she’s going to be a Lannister! Not a  _ Flatsun _ !” Jaime spat as if the name was poison. 

“As of now the baby will have a bastard name. He’ll treat them both well.” Selwyn looked into Jaime’s eyes. “And he’s an honorable man, a good man, which is more than I can say for you,  _ Kingslayer _ .”

“You can’t force her to marry.”

“I’m aware of that and I gave her a choice. Take Ser Hayden as a husband or give up her claim to Tarth.”

Jaime swallowed hard, a panic beginning to overwhelm him. 

He knew how much her isle meant to her, how good she would be at leading her House. She deserved the title of Evenstar and to lose it over saying no to a marriage....

But she also couldn’t marry another man, Jaime wouldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t, she couldn’t be anyone other than Brienne of Tarth or Brienne Lannister. She couldn’t let another man raise his child,  _ THEIR _ child, she couldn’t let another man into her bed, all because her father didn’t think he was a good enough man. 

“Have you heard of wildfire?”

He blurted it out so fast he wasn’t even sure how Selwyn managed to understand what he was asking. The blonde lord gripped Moonbright’s sapphire laden hilt rather suspiciously. “Of course I have... Why do you ask, Kingslayer?”

A trembling breath and Jaime closed his eyes. “The Mad King was obsessed with it…”

Jaime told his story then. The real story, the true story… About how he urged Aerys to surrender peacefully not once but twice, how he told them the Lannister army wasn’t there to fight for the crown but he was ignored, how he commanded that Jaime bring him his father’s head, how half a million people would have burned alive if Jaime hadn't of broken his oath… That he had a choice about staying ‘honorable’ and do what the king commanded or to set aside his vow to protect the innocents of the city… 

Selwyn stayed silent throughout it all, same as his daughter had. His sapphire colored eyes grew wider and wider the longer Jaime spoke but his lips never moved, he never interrupted, never spoke.

When he finished Jaime opened his eyes to find Selwyn staring at him, wide eyed and speechless.

“I had no choice…” Jaime told him, pleading. “I had to do it, if I let him live…” 

_ What his daughter did would have been done a few years earlier. _

“I only told one other person this in my life,” the knight added softly. “Not my own brother or my father or Cersei…”

Selwyn swallowed hard, his expression softening somewhat. “Brienne…”

“It was after I lost my hand. Lord Bolton’s men, they took us to Harrenhal and I climbed into one of the baths with her.”

Selwyns eyes grew wide. “You what?”

_ Bigger picture, Tarth. _

“I was feeling feverish and I needed someone to pull me out if I fainted. Nothing happened.”  _ Except for us seeing one another as naked as our namedays and that was the first time I grew hard for someone other than Cersei.  _ “But I couldn’t stand the thought of her hating me anymore,” Jaime admitted. “Of her thinking I was dishonorable or an oathbreaker. Before we even became friends it killed me that this good person, this genuine and decent and honorable woman thought the absolute worst about me.” 

Sapphire eyes regraded him for a moment. “So why are you telling me as well? Do you care that I think the worst of you?”

“I don’t care what you think of me,” he admitted. “I don’t care what anyone thinks of me apart from her. But I care that you’re someone Brienne loves and cares about, I care that you think I’m not honorable enough to make your daughter happy and because of that you want to marry her off to some knight.”

Selwyn nodded slowly. “So you told me your greatest secret, something you’ve told no one else but her, something you kept hidden that might have made the Dragon Queen hate you less just so I wouldn’t marry her to someone else?”

A hint of a smile played on Jaime’s face. “I guess I did… did it work?”

Selwyn opened his mouth, to agree or disagree, Jaime never found out. Because before he could Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen walked into the room in announced flanked by her three unsullied guards and now two Bloodriders. Jaime and Selwyn stood up, Selwyn gripping Moonbright’s pummel and Jaime wrapping his fist around the neck of the bottle of wine.

He would not let the dragon bring fire and blood to Brienne or his cub...

She said nothing to either men, ignored Selwyns now and muttered, “Your Grace,” and rather just stared at the sleeping woman. Her face was blank. No tears, no anger, no pity, no anything as violet eyes searched over Brienne's face before her gaze moved down to her rounded stomach. Jaime took a step towards the Queen when she did that, not caring about the way the unsullied gripped their spears tighter or the way the Dothraki lifted their curved blades.

Daenerys said nothing, and if Jaime’s presence seemed to be a threat her ivory face didn’t show it. Her breathing was slow and steady and her expression unnervingly blank. Even Sansa at least displayed indifference but here there was nothing, no hint of anger that Brienne had lied about the baby or fury that she bit the whole head of her Bloodriders penis off and had nearly ripped his testicles off with her bare hands as well, or pity that Brienne had been nearly raped and beaten bloody and scarred for life by the man the dragon brought to Kingslanding after promising them all that the Dothraki has changed their ways.

There was nothing but emptiness and blankness and it frightened Jaime. For a whole minute she didn’t move or speak or even seemed to breathe, she just stared at the tall knight in the bed before, without so much as a single word, she turned on her heel and walked out, the unsullied following without a second thought but the two Dothraki eyed Brienne for a moment and Selwyn gripped Moonbright tighter.

“Leave now, Horselords,” the Evenstar told them sharply, hate and disgust and anger drowning his words. When neither of them seemed to listen, he drew the sapphire laden sword, the deep blue steel catching the early morning light and gleaming dangerously.

“ **NOW** !” Selwyn boomed in that deep commanding voice that told them, even if they didn’t know the common tongue, that unless they wanted a sword shoved through their throats they were better off a hundred miles away from him. 

They told something one another in their tongue before they followed Daenerys out of the room. It wasn’t until their footsteps faded when Selwyn sheathed his sword and Jaime let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and sat back down on the bed, taking Brienne's hand and bringing it to his lips, the fact that her father was in the same room as them be damned.

Selwyn said something about posting guards at her door but Jaime barely heard him. He stroked her soft  blonde hair as he urged his heart to slow.

“She isn’t going to hurt you,” he promised in a soft whisper. “And if she tries anything, she’ll meet the same fate as her father.” He laid a soft kiss on her forehead. “I swear it, My Lady.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to her stomach. “I swear it, my little cub.”

“Ser Jaime.”

Jaime blinked, and turned towards Selwyn who had used his name for the first time since the two of them met. He flinched under the way his sapphire eyes were regarding him, the same way Brienne's did, like he was a good man, a heroic man, a man worthy of the title ‘ser’.

“When Brienne wakes, I’ll speak to her about the betrothal again. If she still has as strong reservations as she did before the assault I’ll  _ consider _ rescinding the ultimatum I gave her.”

“Thank you,” Jaime signed, his spirits lifting slightly.

“But that doesn’t mean I’ll give her permission to marry you either. There are still many things you have to answer for, not just the killing of your king.”

And just like they they crashed again. 

With a curt nod and one last fleeting look at Brienne, Selwyn went from the room, shutting the door behind him.

 

Please Review!


	17. Chapter 17

Brienne was dreaming.

She knew she was dreaming because she was beautiful.

Her pale blonde hair flowed in soft long waves down her back and her features were smaller and far more beautiful and comely. She was no longer tall and broad shouldered but cut a very feminine figure. Her breasts were full, her stomach flat and her hips and backside were enticing and curvy. The dress she wore, one made of pale blue sand silk and lace, fit her perfectly and her nipples strained against the light airy fabric.

She was dreaming, she was gorgeous, and she smiled.

Jaime wouldn’t leave her now, not when she was finally as beautiful as his Queen. Brienne raced from her chambers to the courtyard where she saw him packing his horse for a long ride south.

She ran over to him and the moment she was close enough she threw her arms around the man she loved.

“You can stay,” Brienne breathed in a soft voice, taking his face in her dainty uncalloused hands and beaming up at him, a smile as beautiful as a Dornish sunset with small straight teeth and small lips. “You can stay now, Jaime, I can make you happy…”

He looked at her then; viciously, wearing a sneer that would cut through steel. “Why would I want to be with an ugly cow such as you?” 

Tears flooded her eyes and spilled down onto her dress, staining the silk fabric. She didn’t understand, she was beautiful, she was everything a Lady was supposed to be. Why didn’t he want her? 

“Jaime…” she said, tears choking her. “Please… stop. You’re being cruel.”

His right hand threw her a rose that bounced off her ample chest and fell to the muddy Winterfell ground. “That’s all you’ll get from me,  _ Brienne the beauty _ ,” he said, mocking.

Jaime turned back to his horse and then Oathkeeper was in her hands. The valyrian steel glimmered in the moonlight as she raised the sword and, with a feral scream, plunged it into her breast.

A thick blanket of black darkness covered her then but only for a moment. She heard a voice above her. A soothing comforting voice full of warmth and love, reciting a tale about King Loreon Lannister II, and his great tourney in the Westerlands.

Brienne was sitting atop a great steed, 16 hands high, as white as Winterfell’s snow. It was something the perfect gallant knight in all the songs would have ridden in the Age of Heroes. Brienne was staring down a jousting field, looking her regular ugly self, and on the other end was Cersei, riding atop a golden lion with eyes as green as polished emeralds. 

Her lion was scarred and beaten and starved to where even from the distance Brienne could see its ribs poking out against its skin. It was so broken and weak that it could barely support even the queens tiny weight. Cersei hit its flank with a golden riding crop over and over and it growled a soft warning but he would not throw its rider off. 

It wasn’t fair. Brienne wanted a lion too. She didn’t want a horse, a horse wouldn’t unseat the Queen.

Cersei looked up and smiled, beautiful and terrible, before she charged at the Lady Knight. Brienne spurred on her mount, her rose colored lance aimed at the queens heart. Before she could meet her blunted weapon with Cersei’s flesh, the broken lion leapt over the fence and fell on Brienne, toppling the handsome horse and ugly rider into the dirt. 

It’s blinding white teeth as big as bastard swords closed around Brienne's throats while it’s claws as sharp as daggers struck at her face. The sound of the queens laughter was somehow louder then the Knights screams as hot red blood rushed into the lion’s mighty jaws.

Everything went black.

Brienne heard herself screaming and sobbing, clawing at the nothingness. She wanted to escape, she didn’t want to be surrounded by anymore darkness. She wanted that voice that told her about Loreon Lannister again but there was nothing but a mind numbing silence.

She was in the Dothraki plains. 

She had never seen them, never heard much description besides tall grass as far as the eye could see but she somehow knew that was where she was now. Brienne heard small timid terrified mewing’s somewhere buried in the tall stalks of grass. There were no stars, no moon, nothing to give her light to aid her search and no matter how much she begged, the moon would not shine down to help her.

She fell to her knees, frantic, looking around for the source of the cry. Her panic drowned her as she looked, tearing up the grass, digging in the dirt for the source of the cubs cry.

“Tell me where you are!” Brienne cried, desperate as she turned around several times while she looked for the lion babe. Her tears threatened to drown her as the cub ‘mewed’ and cried harder. It was scared, Brienne knew it was, and she couldn’t help her. “Where are you?!”

Moonbright and Oathkeeper were in front of her then; the Tarth sword emitting a soft blue light and the lion hilted valyrian steel giving out a harsh red luster. Brienne hesitated, looking between the two swords for a moment before she dove for Oathkeeper, holding the red sword high above her. It’s crimson steel shined and gave her enough light to find the tiny white lion cub with the black sunburst marking hidden amongst the tall grass. 

It’s beautiful soft white fur was caked in dirt and blood and it’s sapphire eyes were wide with terror as it cried, even as Brienne took it in her arms.

“You’re alright,” she cooed, her voice shaking as she held the trembling cub tight. It cried and mewed and clung to the knight so tight that it’s tiny claws almost drew blood. “Calm down, my little love, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It cried louder, her claws digging deeper into Brienne's pale skin. Something was terrifying her cub and making it panic to the point the knight could barely hold onto it.

Then she heard it; the thundering of hooves and whinnying of horses. Brienne held up her sword and the glowing red steel illuminated a stampede of Dothraki stallions racing towards her and the cub. She turned and ran, wincing as the cub clawed at her, it’s panicked and terrified mews barely heard above the sound of the horses grew closer. The ground vibrated beneath her and she sprinted faster, crying out as the blood wept from her chest as the cubs sharp claws clawed at her breasts, her neck, her face.

“Calm down!” she begged her frightened lion. “My little love, please!”

The cub didn’t listen, and when it swiped a bloody paw at her face the sharp pain made Brienne stumble and crash to the ground. She fell on her side and cradling the frightened lion cub to her chest to try to protect her but her efforts were useless. The horses came then, thousands of them, trampling Brienne and the cub into the dust. They broke their bones, split open their flesh, crushed them into the dirt until she and the cub was nothing but a mess of blood that would soak into the brown waves of the Dothraki Sea for all eternity.

More darkness. But her screams were stayed when she heard that voice again, making it way through the darkness. 

It was Jaime’s voice, she realized. She only knew this because someone was telling someone the story of the Mad King and no one else knew the truth of it but them. Brienne hadn’t told anyone, not Sansa or her father or even Pod. 

It wasn’t her story to tell.

_ Jaime! _ she wanted to cry as she clawed through the darkness.  _ Jaime, pull me out! Please! Wake me up! Wake us up! I don’t wanna be here anymore! Jaime, please! Jaime! _

But she stayed asleep. The dreams came again and again, each more terrible than the last. Raeko always overpowered her, Stannis always killed Jaime during the Long Night and he died in Brienne’s arms the same as Renly had, Cersei always commanded Jaime to throw Brienne into the bear pit and he always listioned, Daenerys always burned her and her cub alive… 

The Red Keep was surrounded.

Lannister soldiers were sacking the city, murdering and raping and looting and all the things men do when they’re given a sword and free reign.

She was in the throne room and Raeko was there and Jaime as well. 

Raeko was taller than the Mountain had been and broader to boot. He was solid muscle and thicker than an oak tree and his black braid was so long that the end of it lay coiled on the stone floor. He smelled of stale piss and horse flesh and cum and rot.

Jaime was young, only sixteen, and beautiful, the most beautiful man Brienne had ever seen. Golden hair, emerald eyes, a youthful handsome appearance dressed in shining gold armor… He looked like a God. 

He WAS a God.

“Burn them all!” she heard the Dothraki roar. “Burn them all! BURN THEM ALL!”

Jaime drew his sword, his hand trembling as he approached the horselord. Raeko turned to flee and she watched as Jaime rushed forward and plunged his sword into the Bloodriders back and the two of them watched as the great Dothraki fell to the ground.

The young Jaime turned and saw Brienne staring at him. 

The knight wiped the tears from his green eyes. “I had to!” It was Jaime’s voice but it was more youthful, more terrified then she had ever heard it. “I didn’t have a choice!”

“I know,” Brienne told Jaime with a voice as soft as silk. “I know you didn’t, Jaime.”

Her father walked in then, flanked by his guards. 

“Seize him!” Selwyn boomed, and Hayden and another guard grabbed the young Jaime and threw him down before the Evenstar. “He killed his king!”

“Don’t hurt him!” Brienne screamed as her father drew Moonbright, the sword so slick with blood that the blade was red rather than it’s normal deep blue. “He had to do it! He had to!”

The Evenstar looked at Brienne, his hard gaze full of hate and disgust for the tall blonde knight. “Marry the king or he dies.”

She wanted to tell her father that the king was dead but then Raeko was standing in front of her, reeking of death and decay.

He was no longer a handsome Dothraki, the perfect example of his race, he was a living walking corpse, no different then the dead men she had fought at Winterfell. His eyes were a cold, dead icy blue and his copper skin was now black rot and falling from his bones while grave worms and maggots were gnawing at the little flesh he had left. He was naked and his aroused member was as large around as his arm and dripping with pus.

Brienne cried out in disgust as she took a step back from the corpse. “Marry him or your knight dies,” Selwyn repeated, holding Moonbright on the back of Jaime’s neck.

“Please!” she begged as Raekos bony hand reached for her, slipping inside her breeches. “Don’t make me do it, Father, please! Jaime!”

A rotting finger ran in between her southern lips and then forced its way inside her. Brienne tried to push him away but she might as well have pushed against a castle wall and expected it to move.

“NO!” Brienne screamed, slapping the corpse across the face. She grabbed hold of his arm and yanked, the appendage detaching at the elbow and falling to the ground. Thick black blood poured from the wound but he hardly seemed to feel it.

Raeko grabbed hold of her shoulder and pushed her down to her knees as easy as if she were a child. Brienne cried and screamed and fought with all her night but she could not win against him. He grabbed her face and forced her to come within inches of the monstrous rotting cock between his legs only it wasn’t a cock at all, but a snake.

A great big poisonous viper with fangs dripping with venom that hissed at the blonde before it slithered down Raeko’s leg and then onto Brienne, traveling up her suddenly naked body. It slithered over her breasts, flicking its tongue at her flesh before he made its way up to her face and slid across her lips and she cried when it forced her lips open and slithered inside her mouth, running its body over her tongue before it withdrew and coiled itself around her throat.

“Jaime!” she gasped as the snake tightened itself around her neck. She could scarcely breathe now. “Jaime, please! Help me! Jaime!”

The snake constricted itself to where no breath could pass in or out of her lungs. Tears were streaming down her face as the snakes head slithered up her face and rested against her cheek. 

It unhinged it’s jaws before it struck, sinking its dagger like white fangs deep into her cheek, burning the flesh from the inside out.

Sapphire eyes flew open. 

At first she thought she was still in a dream, that she was still stuck in the darkness, but this didn’t feel like a dream. This was solid. This was real life, this was reality… 

The early morning light was streaming through the dirty window and she saw that she was in her chambers in Kingslanding. The next thing she was aware of a pressure on her abdomen and when she looked down she saw Jaime resting his head on her stomach, arms wrapped protectively around the bump and a small line of drool that trailed from his lips onto her skin.

For one moment she forgot everything but him. She forgot Cersei and Daenerys and Raeko and everything soul and wretched in her life, she forgot and ignored everything but the fact the man she loved and the father of her child was here with her, sleeping with her, embracing their baby the way she always dreamed her lord husband would do.

“Jaime…” she breathed, and everything came rushing back.

Pain was throbbing so violently around her skull that she wondered why it didn't just crack open. It was stabbing her behind her tired eyes, making her stomach roll, and enveloped her entire head and she almost yearned to be back in the darkness.  At least there had been no pain in the dark.

Her face was screaming in protest when she tried to talk, even in a whisper, and she cried out in pain, bringing her hands to both sides of her face to try to relieve some of the agony. When her fingers brushed against thick gauze on her left cheek, tears leapt to her eyes. 

She forgot Raeko had cut her, marking her in the same way he had been scarred. She remembered everything he did to her then. She remembered the way he pinched and tugged at her breasts, the way his fingers forced themselves inside her, the way his foul unwashed cock tasted, the way his course bristly hair felt and smelled when her face was pressed up against his stomach.

The way his warm crimson blood flooded her mouth when she bit down.

Her stomach lurched and she pushed Jaime’s head away from her and she had just enough time to lean over the bed so that she didn’t make a mess of the sheets and blankets covering her and she emptied her stomach onto the floor, ignoring a now wide awake Jaime first yelling her name and then calling for a Maester.

When she was done, she leaned back on her pillows, gasping for breath and gagging at the acidic taste of sick in her mouth but, Brienne had to admit, it was better than the taste of  _ him _ .

“Brienne.” 

She looked towards Jaime and she almost had to turn away, hardly able to stand the intense way he was looking at her. Like she was his absolute everything, like he could hardly believe she was real.

Like he might look at a woman he found beautiful.

“Brienne,” he said again, his voice choked with emotions and tears. “Brienne…”

“I’m here,” she gasped out, suddenly very aware how dry her throat was. “Water.”

She almost wanted to laugh at the way he jumped up from the bed and retrieved a pitcher and glass from the stand, pouring her a glass and handing it to her as if he was an over eager hand maid rather than the Lord of Casterly Rock. She winced, feeling the broken bones in her face move and grind against each other as she opened her mouth to take a sip of water sweetened with honey.

When she drank as much as the pain would allow, she leaned up against the pillows, groaning softly.

“Sore?” Jaime asked her. 

Brienne nodded but she winced as the pain in her head throbbed and only gave him a single curt movement to try to limit the movement. “My face mostly.”

She didn’t tell him about the ache between her legs or the excruciating pain that felt like someone had taken a knife to her skull.

“Waldon said he broke your cheek.”

“I figured,” she muttered, taking another sip of water. She placed a hand on her rounded stomach and looked up at her lion. “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” he said at once and Brienne felt a weight lifted off her shoulders she hadn’t even realized she had been carrying. “Maester Waldon said she’s fine, he didn’t hurt her.” Jaime offered her a smile as soft as the clouds. “You protected her, Brienne, you saved our cub.”

The Lady Knight said nothing, just took a slow sip of her water, nearly gagging on its sweetness. 

She didn’t want to talk about how she had protected her cub by not fighting back, by giving him free reign to fondle her, molest her, violate her... If Raeko hadn’t insulted her baby’s pride, he would have taken what he wanted. He would have forced what was between his legs inside her, he would have spilled his seed inside her and it would only be because she and Jaime had been careless in Winterfell that she wouldn’t have a Dothraki bastard in her belly. A foal, not a cub would have grown inside her with it’s father’s copper skin and dark eyes.

She shuddered at the image and pushed the ‘what if’s’ away. That hadn’t happened. She HAD fought, she HAD won… Her child wasn’t put into her by force, it had been made by love. She would be beautiful, like Jaime, and her blue eyes would belong to Tarth while all the rest belonged to Casterly Rock. 

“How long have I been out?” she asked in a hopeful bid to change the subject.

“A week,” he answered. “Maester Waldon wanted most of the swelling to go down and some of the pain to subside before you woke.”

But Brinne barely heard him. A week? She had been out a whole solid week?

“Lady Sansa,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands. She flinched as she brushed them against her broken bones. “She must be so upset with me. She has Gods know how many different things going on, and to be left alone without protection-.”

“Lady Sansa understands the cause for your absence, I assure you.” A curious smirk rose to his lips. “And Pod has been very diligent in protecting her.”

Before Brienne could question what he meant by his queer smile, the door to her chambers opened and Waldon walked in, a look of relief flooding his careworn face.

“You’re awake, My Lady,” the maester said with a gentle smile. 

In the hall Brienne could see two of her father's sapphire soldiers standing outside her door, swords in hand and she grimaced. She could protect herself, she didn’t need two men to stand guard over her.

But the sight of them did make her nervous though, but not for herself. 

“How’s the Lady Sansa? My father?”

“They’re both fine,” Waldon assured her as he came to her bedside opposite Jaime. He took her face with delicate hands and turned her towards him.

“And… The Queen?”

His gentle fingers stayed for a moment before they continued their examination. “She hasn’t said much about the matter.”

“Is she upset?”

Brienne didn’t specify with who or what.

“Yes.”

Waldon didn’t either.

The Maester removed the gauze from her cut and Brienne blushed scarlet, closing her eyes and bowing her head as he examined the deep cut. 

If she was ugly before…

“It’s healing well,” Waldon told her, and Brienne said nothing. “No infection seems to have set in either. Although that might be the result of an over abundance of salve from your nursemaid.”

“My brother always said if a little bit is good, more must be better. I assumed that applied to healing ointments as well as ale,” Jaime said and Brienne turned to look at him, brows furrowed.

“You…. took care of me?” she asked in a whisper, half in shock, half in embarrassment.

“Ser Jaime didn’t leave your bedside for even a moment,” Waldon told her and the one handed knight gave her a shy smile. “I’ve never seen a man so devoted to a sleeping woman.”

Her cheeks burned with a bright crimson that traveled all the way down her chest. “Thank you,” she muttered, her cheeks flushing hotter. “For looking after me.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“Nevertheless, you have my thanks.”

Brienne waited until Waldon was done replacing the bandages on her cheek until she spoke, figuring she might as well get all the pain out of the way at once.

“The Dothraki… is he…”

She flinched at the sound of her own voice, damning the fear in it that she knew Jaime would be able to distinguish in her otherwise indifferent tone. And she hated that there was the finest, thinnest thread of concern for the man who had assaulted her, buried so deep that not even Jaime would be able to see it.

“He’s alive,” Waldon told Brienne flatly. “The Queen had her healers see to him.” 

“Tyrion told me the bite got infected,” Jaime said with a cutting grin. “They had to remove another three inches.”  

The thought didn’t bring as much joy to Brienne as she thought it would have.

“I’m not sure where he’s being kept though, I just know that the Queen is short one Bloodrider,” Jaime continued.

Waldon grabbed the green salve and applied it to the opposite side of her face and Brienne breathed in the strong mint smell deeply, the smell reminding her of her childhood when the maester would apply the ointment to her bruises and cuts and inflamed skin after nearly every fight.

It brought back memories of Tarths training yards and swimming in the brilliant blue of its waters, and the feel of white sand beneath her bare feet and climbing the Starreach Cliffs and laying in the green Moon Meadows with a young Renly beside her while she pointed out the different shapes and patterns in the stars and how cool the white marble of Evenfall’s walls felt against her skin when she would lay her cheek against it after a day of fighting and training and playing in the islands hot sun.

Tears sprang to her eyes then, and she fought them away before either men could see.

“I want to leave this place,” she muttered, embarrassed and ashamed at the sudden show of emotion but also for the implication of her words. If she went home, that would mean leaving Lady Sansa behind. It would mean breaking her vow. 

Waldon stayed his hand and she turned to look at him. “I want to go home, to Tarth.” The fact she had to specify her island and not Winterfell made the tears come on stronger and she battled them back even fiercer. 

The Maester swallowed hard,m. He wore a look of heartbreak. “My Lady, the Queen-.”

“The Others take the Queen! I want to go **_home_ ** _! _ I’m not a hostage, I’ve committed no crime, Tarth swore an oath of fealty to the crown, there’s no reason to keep me here!”

_Sansa’s the reason,_ a stubborn voice scolded her, and her guilt for her outburst ate at her more fiercely _. Sansa and Jaime. Daenerys won’t let them leave._ _You have to protect them, you swore an oath to protect Sansa, Jaime charged you to defend the innocent._

Her arms wrapped around her stomach, caressing the bump. He did charge her to defend the innocent… and there was nothing more innocent then the babe she carried inside her. 

“My Lady,” Waldon tried again. But before he could finish his thought, the door to her chambers opened again and Greyworm was there along with a rather guilt ridden Dust Maggot and Jaehaerys.

It was the first time the two of them had been in close quarters since she beat him in combat.

“The Queen has summoned the Lady Brienne for an audience,” the Unsullied commander told the group.

He was trying to hide the malice for Jaime, and her as well she suspected, she could tell. He just wasn’t very adept at it.

“Tell the Queen Ser Brienne is still resting,” Waldon told him, his usually soft spoken words as sharp as swords. “She JUST woke up from a seven day poppy milk sleep. Give her a day to herself, for pity's sake.”

“The Queen wants to see her.” 

“The Queen can bury her head underwater twice and come up for air once,” Jaime told the commander. 

“Jaime!” Brienne barked. 

“She’s going to have a day before she meets with the Queen,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard the warning, ignoring the hateful look Greyworm was giving him. “And that’s the end of it. There’s only one door in these chambers, I trust you can find your way out. If not I’ll be happy to assist you.”

Brienne looked between the maimed lion and the unsullied commander, a familiar feeling in the air that meant a very much wanted fight was dawning.

“Dust Maggot, Jaehaerys; escort Ser Brienne to the throne room,” Greyworm ordered the two anxious looking guards in Valerian without taking his dark eyes away from Jaime. “If the Kingslayer or her healer fight you-.”

“I’ll go,” Brienne said quickly in their native language. “I’ll go, there’s no need for a fight.” She turned towards Jaime and Waldon. “I’ll be fine,” she told them in the common tongue. “It’ll be fine. May I have a moment alone to change?”

A heavy unease settled over the group. Waldon was the first to relent and Jaime looked like he was about to protest but after a stern look from Brienne he decided better of it. “I’ll be right outside,” the lion told her. He looked as if he meant to press a kiss against her forehead but thought better of it and walked out of the room. 

Brienne raises a pale brow at the Unsullied. “A moment alone, please. So I can change,” she said again, sharper, this time in Valerian. 

The three unsullied, thankfully, left her alone and shut the door behind them. Brienne took a deep breath and threw her furs and sheets off her and stood with wobbly legs and she needed to grip the wall to keep from falling.

Her head throbbed. It was as if a thousand horses were galloping inside her skull. She leaned her head against the cool stone of the castle walls. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the pain to go away. The rest of the world became detached, and all she could concentrate on was the pain rooted deep in her head.

Brienne forced herself to wash the sweat from her face, slicked her hair back and then chewed a handful of mint leaves to rid herself of the taste of sick before she went to her chest and dressed herself in plain brown trousers and a blue tinted light and airy shirt with the hopes that it might allow some breeze to help soothe her pain, slow and steady, her head aching all the while. She went to reach for her armor before she remembered that Raeko had sliced the straps and rendered it unwearable.

She would have to face Daenerys without armor, and with her rounded stomach and fuller breasts and wider hips on full display for the court.

Even now the Dothraki was putting her cub at risk.

“Damn him,” she hissed, kicking at the ruined armor. “Damn him to all seven hells!”

Oathkeeper’s scabbard was uncomfortable and sat not on her hips where it was supposed to but on her stomach, the heavy crimson belt cutting into the bump but she would not go into the Dragon’s lair unprotected. She also grabbed a dagger, a rather simple looking weapon with a green and gold tinted hilt that she bought when she first came to Kingslanding that reminded Brienne of her fallen stag king’s colors, and sheathed that on her person as well.

When she was done, the blonde knight wrapped her arms around her bump, caressing her cub with calloused warriors hands.

“No ones going to hurt you, my little love,” she purred softly so the men outside wouldn’t be able to hear her. “I swear it. By the Old Gods and the New.”

Taking a deep breath, Brienne walked outside her chambers, ignoring the looks from the men who had never seen her without armor before, her great secret being made known to all the world. She held her head high and placed a hand on her rounded stomach, looking coolly at the men standing around her.

“Shall we, My Lord?” she asked Greyworm who just gave her a curt nod and walked off with Brienne and the rest following; her only thought being that she hoped she would be able to honor the vow she just made her cub…

 

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	18. Chapter 18

It was the Day of the Mother, a holiday meant to honor the Mother and all those who had been blessed by her gift, when things turned so astronomically bad for Daenerys that she considered getting on Drogons back and just flying back to Essos. Sansa or Jon or Gendry or whoever else could rule over Westeros, Daenerys just wanted to escape back to Meereen.

There was always songs and dancing and feasts and celebrations in the square on this day. Women would walk around wearing smiles with crowns made of white roses and be revered and children would lay roses down at the feet of the Mother statue in their septs.

If there was a sept near the places they hid from Roberts assassins, Daenerys and Viserys would lay a white rose at the Mother’s feet and later he would tell her stories about the silver haired queen who gave birth to them, every year, right up until she had been married off to Drogo.

But it had never truly been a grand or city wide day of jubilance. Not when she and Viserys were often the only ones who worshipped the Seven, not when either of them were anything close to what you could call devout in their faith, not when Daenerys only knew the woman from tales her brother told her.

When she was pregnant with Rhaego she told Drogo about the Westerosi customs of pregnant women and mothers wearing a crown of roses in their hair to honor being blessed with a child, that there was a whole day centered around celebrating and honoring mothers and the Goddess. The great Khal had been amused at that, telling her how ignorant it was to have a day set aside to honor a woman just because she had done what she was born to do. Not to mention what if she gave birth to a deformed child or a weak son or a female? Why would anyone want to honor that?

Daenerys had forced a laugh alongside her husband, shared a kiss with him and then the two of them went back to their supper of grilled horse flesh and wild onions.

Her years in the Slave Cities were spent amongst those who worshipped a plethora of Gods and she had no one to help her celebrate but when she came to Westeros, she expected dances and singers in the streets of Kingslanding. She pictured the capital, shining and bright, with white rose petals flooding the sidewalks, of beautiful young women heavy with child and kindly old women whose children’s children had given birth with beautiful crowns of roses on their brow, all of them throwing flowers at Daenerys’ feet, cheering as she rode past, wearing her own crown as beautiful as the Maid herself. Jon would be by her side, worshipping and adoring her, as the King and Queen visited the orphanages of Flea Bottom and handed out sweets and smiles for all the children.

But reality was crueler than even her nightmares.

Her first Day of the Mother in Westeros wasn’t spent smiling and drinking and laughing at fools and jugglers but burning Lannister and Tarly soldiers and then executing the family of the man who saved her Bear’s life.

Her second one was being spent in a city that it’s poorest parts were still choked with ash and death. But she was determined to bring some semblance of normalcy so she arranged to have a festival; with singers and jugglers and food and wine in hopes that they would see that she wasn’t there just to lay cities to waste and bring fire and blood to their homes. Daenerys even gave all the mothers the day off from assisting with the rebuild.

On the day of the festival the Queen dressed in pale pink satin and her flower crown was as beautiful as any had a right to be. It was as white as the snow at The Wall with three red roses to represent her dragons, and then a small blue Forget-Me-Not in remembrance of Rhaego.

She rode in the streets, Jon solemn and melancholy by her side, and where she expected smiles and joys she found nothing but frightened children clutching their mothers skirts and blank burnt faces starring up at her. The first orphanage Daenerys visited an older boy who lost his mother in the battle of Kingslanding threw one of the blood oranges she was handing out at the Queen, hitting her in the face and toppling the flower crown to the ground.

Daenerys turned without a word and headed back to the Red Keep, not even flinching when she heard the crack of Kuvo’s whip and the boys screams that followed or bothering to wipe away the sticky sweet juices running down her face.

When she was back safely in her chambers she called for a bath to be drawn. Raeko told her that his horse had taken ill and needed to tend to it so she dismissed him for the evening with a promise to pray to the Great Stallion that her Bloodrider was able to help his mount.

Daenerys sank into the hot water with a sigh as the blistering hot water soothed her aching muscles and washed away the dirt from the road and the juice from the orange, closing her violet eyes and leaning her head back against the cool metal of the tub.

For a moment she imagined herself back in Winterfell, in the heart of silvery white mountains with Jon by her side while a winter sun beat down on the two of them, both of them setting aside possible impending doom just for a moment.

It had all been so simple. She would have been his queen, he would have been her king, Stark and Targaryen bound in blood and the Lannister twins cast out. Gendry would be loyal to her in Stormsend and Yara in the Iron Islands, Tyrion’s man could rule Highgarden and she would have given Casterly Rock to her hand. Sansa ruling the north and her uncle and cousin ruling Riverrun and the Vale respectfully would have been cause for some concern but her two dragons along with her Dothraki, who would have settled in Dorne, and her Unsullied would keep them in line (and if there was a rebellion, she could take them out with a single ‘dracarys’ and install someone loyal as Warden as the North, Lord of the Vale and Lord Paramount of the Trident.)

It would have been perfect.

 

**Too bad you ruined it.**

 

_I didn’t ruin it. I can still have everything I want. They’ll come around. Jon will come around. They’ll see I’m better than Cersei was._

 

**You ruined it. They all hate you. They all despise you, they’re all plotting against you.**

 

Daenerys grabbed the soap brush and began scrubbing at her skin, trying to push away her thoughts. She just wanted a nice relaxing bath, that was all.

Why couldn’t she just enjoy her bath?

 

**Right now they’re plotting against you. They want your throne.**

 

_They don’t! No ones plotting!_

 

**They are! Just like the Evenstar! That’s why he wanted to go home, he wanted to assemble his men to come take your throne!**

 

_And I burned his ship and made him a hostage because of it. No one will plot against me now, they know the power I have._

 

**You burned silk sails and wooden planks. They will all oppose you unless you show them your true strength!**

 

_I won’t do it. You can’t make me._

 

**Then your reign won’t last the year.**

 

Daenerys stood up from the bath, grabbing a thick fluffy cotton towel and wrapping it around herself.

All of a sudden a bath wasn’t as relaxing as she thought it had been moments ago.

After she dried herself off she dabbed a flowery  perfume she got from a market in Qarth on her breast and behind her ears incase Jon came to her that night, and just as she pulled on a silk black nightdress, there was a loud frantic knock on her door.

“My Queen!” Jaehaerys yelled through the heavy wood in Valerian. “Somethings happened!”

Frightened, Daenerys ran to the door and wrenched it open. Her stomach lurched when she saw the Unsullied guard she had put in charge of watching the Kingslayer, brown eyes wide a d his hands and arms covered in blood.

 

**It’s begun.**

 

“What happened?” she demanded, listening for the song of swords and the screams of dying men, any signs of a rebellion but it was as silent as any other night in the Red Keep.

“It’s Raeko, he’s- something happened! My Queen, you have to come now!”

Her brow furrowed. There wasn’t a man alive who could best the Blood of her Blood. Perhaps his mount had somehow injured him?

“Raeko? My Bloodrider? Did something happen in the stables?”

“The stables, wha-? No! He-!” Jaehaerys took a deep breath to take a moment to collect himself. “He attacked Lady Brienne. Me and Dust Maggot were escorting the Kingslayer to her chambers like we do every night and we heard a scream. When we walked in…”

All color faded from Daenerys’ pale face and a heaviness settled deep in the pit of her stomach. The Unsullied didn’t need to specify in what context Raeko ‘attacked’ the Lady Knight.

“The blood...” Her voice was a harsh whisper and she clutched the edge of the door tight. “Is it-... is she…?”

“She was alive when her healer came, I don’t know about now,” the guard admitted. “And the blood is his,” he added darkly.

A breath she hadn’t even realized she had been holding escaped her. “Is he alive?”

A curt nod. “Yes.”

“Is he awake?”

Another nod.

“Take me to him.”

Daenerys followed Jaehaerys with Qualo and Rats Eye flanking her down a long maze of corridors and even before she got to the door where Jaehaerys and Dust Maggot had placed him, well enough away from Briennes chamber so the two wouldn’t be able to hear one another, she could hear his blood curdling screams that drew a crowd and Daenerys hesitated for a moment, almost frightened of the cries of pain that were coming from the closed door.

The people gathered outside the Dothraki’s temporary chambers parted as soon as they saw the Queen and she slammed the door open to find Dust Maggot and one of her healers she brought from Essos, the only ones she trusted to work on the slave soldiers and horselords, by Raeko’s bedside.

As soon as she saw him the injury that was causing the screaming was abundantly apparent. Hot wet blood soaked through the bandages the healer was holding on his groin.

“Khaleesi!” Raeko cried, drawing her attention to his tear streaked bruised and bloody face. It was obvious the knight had put up a fight. “Khaleesi, help me!”

Daenerys walked slowly up to her blood rider, her tiny body shaking in such a rage to the point even her teeth were chattering. “I told you,” she hissed in the Dothraki tongue. “Not to mount the Sun Daughter.”

“Khaleesi!”

“I told you not to mount her, I told you not to mount ANY woman, and you agreed. You SWORE to me, at the Mother of Mountains, that you would give up the old ways.”

A sob. “Khaleesi… please!”

She stood by his bedside, looking down at his bloodstained groin as if it were just an odd curiosity. “Was it with a knife?” she asked Jaehaerys, looking over at the Unsullied guard.

He shook his head, looking at the weeping Dothraki with as much disgust as he could manage. “She bit him, My Queen.”

“Did she bite all the way through?”

“I believe so.”

Daenerys pursed her lips, giving a small nod. “Strong woman.”  

She turned back to Raeko and without warning she reached out and grabbed the mutilated cock, her sharp dagger like nails digging into his flesh. He screamed louder, actually reaching out to throttle his Queen but Dust Maggot, Jaehaerys and Rats Eye all leapt forward, restraining his arms before he could touch the Queen. It took the three of them to hold the massive Dothraki down.

Daenerys gripped him harder, twisting painfully tight and leaned down closer, her face a pallet of fury and hate and disgust. “You served me well, Blood of My Blood, and that is the only reason why I’m not ordering my healer to allow you to bleed out. But after today you will never ride beside me again. You will never ride ANYWHERE again.”

She allowed her nails to drag along what was left of his shaft before she turned to her unsullied guards. “If he lives take him down to the Black Cells.”

Without waiting for their agreement she turned on her heel and left the room with Rats Eye and a very sullen and silent Qualo.

She headed back to her apartment, any malice and ire fading into fear.

They would blame her. They would say this was her fault; the Kingslayer, the She-Wolf, the Evenstar… all of them would place the blame on Daenerys for bringing the Dothraki here in the first place. They would kill her for what happened to the lady knight.

 

**Maybe that was their plan. Take out your best guard to make it easier to kill you.**

 

_If she was close enough to bite him why not kill him and be done with it?_

 

**The guards arrived before she could finish her plan.**

 

_She was a maid before the Kingslayer, she wouldn’t lay with Raeko just to kill him. She has too much honor for that._

 

**She took him out just to make it easier to kill you. She plotted this.**

 

Daenerys’ hands curled into a fist.

 

_She didn’t lie! He wanted to rape her, he said so himself!_

 

**She used lies and tricks to win against Greyworm and now she’s using lies and tricks to take out Raeko. Even the Kingslayer’s guard is sympathetic towards her now**

 

Daenerys froze mid-step, swallowing hard. There had been deceit with her win involving Greyworm, something she thought for sure the honorable lady knight wouldn’t have been capable of. But letting a man put himself in her mouth, at the very least, just to be able to take him out… It would be the perfect plan, especially with someone as unfortunate looking and ‘honorable’ as the Lady Brienne…

 

**She could make them think it was rape, the murder would be excused. She’s taking out your guards one by one, she-**

 

“No!”

Daenerys spoke the word as firmly as she could, ignoring the strange looks from her guards at the outburst. She took a deep breath, smoothing out her night dress all but ran back to her chambers, barring the door and leaning her head against the heavy wood.

She just needed to get some sleep. That was all. Things would be clearer to her in the morning.

But things weren’t clearer in the morning. As a matter of fact they were murkier than ever. She spent the day in her chambers, not wanting to chance running into Sansa or the Kingslayer or the Evenstar. Selwyn had ran into one of the young Dothrakis by happenstance on the corridor where Brienne's chambers were, his braid barely past the nape of his neck, and the blue eyed soldier slammed him against the wall and lifted him from the ground, warning him that if he ever saw any of his kind near her again, he would end them.

After that Daenerys sent out a warning to all her Dothraki that if they were to meet any of those three, or even Brienne's squire, they were to retreat and not speak to them and they were to stay away from the hall where her chambers were.

Rumor had it was the Kingslayer hadn’t left her chambers since he walked in the day before and was getting his meals sent up to him. She thought about how she didn’t leave Jon’s side almost the whole time they were on the boat to Winterfell and wondered if she was hurt now would he do the same thing.

The next day she still didn’t emerge. Her healer came to her and said Raeko would live but an infection started to settle in and if the herbs she gave him couldn’t heal it then they would have to take off more of his flesh.

Daenerys told her to do what she needed to do to keep him alive and nothing more.

Finally on the third day she ventured from her chambers after calling a meeting to her small counsel.

While she and her three unsullied and now two bloodriders walked down the corridors Kuvo and Qualo became involved in a heated argument.

Qualo, it seemed wanted to cut off both the sun daughter’s breasts and her southern lips to repay them for injuring the blood of their blood in such a cruel manner while Kuvo, gentleman that he was, felt only taking a hand was necessary.  He had actually been rather impressed by the fact the sun daughter was able to fight and win against one of their strongest. So much so that if she turned down Raeko as a husband, Daenerys had also made them swear before the mother of mountains that they would take any women they mounted as wives, Kuvo would ask for her hand. The sun daughter may have been ugly, but she was tall and clearly strong and would give him many good strong sons.

“The Sun and Moon, the Wolf and the Lion will devour the Khalasar whole if any more Dothraki touch her,” Daenerys grumbled, forcing the more vile part of their arguments go in one ear and out the other. “And I will execute any rider who tries to harm her and afterwards I will not burn their bodies, but instead I will have their remains thrown into the poisoned water and his head will decorate the spikes atop the castle walls.”

After that there was no more talk of cutting off breasts or hands or anything else.

 

**This is exactly what she wants. You just threatened to kill your two other blood riders.**

 

_I’m trying to save a woman from being mutilated._

 

**How long until your Unsullied guards are strangled in their sleep? She wants them out, she wants to get close to you to kill you and take your throne.**

 

_That will not happen. The throne is mine, I fought for it, I shed blood for it, Missandei and Jorah lost their lives for it._

 

**She and the Kingslayer will kill you and take your throne. You have to stop them.**

 

Daenerys hardened her gaze as she walked into her counsel chambers where Greyworm, Jon, Tyrion and a newly appointed Master of Coin Davos Seaworth stood when she walked into the room. Tyrion Lannister was looking at her Dothraki with so much contempt and hatred that if looks could kill half the Khalasar would already have two feet in the grave, a goblet and half empty bottle of wine in front of him, while Davos was doing his best to hold back his anger but the storm in his eyes was evident. Jon was gripping Longclaws hilt and narrowing his dark eyes at her Bloodriders.

Word traveled fast apparently.

Daenerys sat down at the head of the long table and sat down, the three Westerosi not even waiting until she was sitting halfway down before they took their seats.

 

**They hate you. They all hate you. This was what she wanted.**

 

No one spoke for a long time. Finally when the silence got to be too much so Daenerys took a deep breath and folded her hands on the table in front of her.

“I assume everyone here has heard about the assault on Lady Brienne.” No one expressed surprise so she continued. “I assure you I played no part in the attack.”

“No but your Dothraki did, Your Grace,” Davos said, as calmly as he could manage. “Not only a Dothraki but your personal guard. I’m not sure how things were done in Essos but in Westeros, the crimes of someone’s soldiers or bannerman lies with their commanders.”

“I made them swear an oath in front of what’s essentially their sept to give up their old way of life,” she argued. “I explicitly forbade him from going after the Evenstars daughter, I-.”

“Why her specifically?”  Daenerys looked towards her Hand who was filling his goblet up with more wine. “If there was any woman I would ‘explicitly forbade’ a man from raping, she wouldn’t be my first priority.” Tyrion set the bottle down and looked at her, his green eyes harder than iron. “Unless you had prior knowledge that he was targeting Ser Brienne.”

Daenerys swallowed. “I did, yes, but I told him-.”

“If one of my men threatened to rape a specific woman, I would have done everything in my power to make sure he stayed away from THAT specific woman.” He turned his angry gaze towards the two Horselord guards. “Not just rely on promises and oaths to men who can’t even spell ‘promises’.”

“A lack of education and honor in oaths aside, one of them hurt Lady Brienne,” Jon said. Daenerys could tell he was forcing himself to look at her. “My sister has asked me to ask your permission to let her take him as his prisoner. Lady Brienne is Sansa's sworn shield, she feels the Dothraki should suffer a Northern punishment.”

“Brienne is not of the North, Snow,” Tyrion said before Daenerys could even think about what a ‘northern punishment’ would include. “Not to mention she would have been my brother’s wife and my good-sister, had he not gone and royally fucked it all up, and he’s the one who refuses to leave her side even for a moment. What happens to the rapist-.”

“Should be up to Ser Brienne to decide,” Davos cut in. “Her or her father. She’s not married to Ser Jaime, and the loyalty she shows to Sansa is admirable, aye, but there’s no blood between them.”

Greyworm looked around the room. “In Astapor, a man gives the owner of a slave or a girl's father or husband ten coppers if she is taken without permission,” he said in his thick Essos accent. “Our Queen should pay the Evenstar the money and be done with this.”

“Good to know Brienne of Tarth, the first female knight who fought in the Long Night and defeated the Hound in single combat, is worth all of ten coppers,” Tyrion said flatly.

“Fifteen,” the Unsullied replied.

“Does the height give her extra value?”

Greyworm shook his head. “The baby inside her does.”

Daenerys looked curiously at her unsullied commander. “Lady Brienne isn't pregnant.”

“She is, My Queen. Jaehaerys and Dustmaggot were the ones who found her and Raeko. They saw her changed body and then witnessed Jaime Lannister kiss her stomach. They told some of the other Unsullied in the barracks.”

Daenerys’ face fell. No. No that wasn’t possible, the Kingslayer didn’t have a child, they were all dead. That was her one bit of joy she had in this world, she may have lost everyone but so did he.

She lost Drogo and Jon, he lost Cersei and Brienne. She lost Rhaego, Rhaegal and Viserion, he lost Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella. He murdered her father, her hand murdered his.

She was not allowed to have another child, neither was he.

Daenerys looked around the table. Jon was staring open mouthed and wide eyed at her commander, the news hitting him Justin as fresh as it was hitting the Queen. But Davos was baring guilty eyes into the table and Tyrion was glaring hard at her unsullied commander.

 

 **They knew** . **They knew and they hid it from me.**

 

Daenerys stood and the rest of her counsel stood as well.  Without a word she left the room and made her way towards Brienne’s chambers.

 

**They knew. They knew and didn’t tell me. They hid it from me. They lied to me.**

 

She turned down a long hall and saw Jaehaerys and Dustmagget standing outside Brienne’s door. Without sparing a moment to look at the guilty looking unsullied guards, she walked in, flanked by her five protectors. Her face was stoic, unreadable. She didn’t even look at the two men who stood up, didn’t hear the customary titles, just stared at the sleeping woman in the bed.

She searched over Brienne’s face for a moment, taking in every bruise and cut and the thick gauze over her cheek before her eyes traveled down to what should have been a flat muscular stomach but instead was rounded with child.

 

**The Kingslayer has another child on the way while three of mine may rotting in the earth. The Kingslayer has a lover who he got pregnant while Jon hates me and I will never carry a living child again. It’s not fair.**

 

She stared at it for a long moment, her breath surprisingly steady and slow. The Kingslayer took a step forward at that, wine bottle clutched in his hand but she didn’t care. Let him try to kill her. Her guards would either stop him in which case meant his death or he would triumph.

What did she have to live for? Her children were dead, her enemy would have a son, and her throne would be taken from her.

 

**Not if you take it from him. Take his lover from him, take his child from him, take everything from him the way everything was taken from you. Take it all, destroy them all, burn-.**

 

Daenerys turned on her heel then and walked out of the room with her unsullied following. Qualo and Kuvo held back and she heard Brienne’s father order them out. When they didn’t move the deep boom of words made her flinch.

“See her father? That’s how strong our sons could be,” she heard Kuvo say.

“She’s already carrying a son, it will be pale and weak like all the rest of the skinny men in this country.”

“Nothing weak could come from _that_.”

The two Dothraki walked out of the room and took their place behind Daenerys. The Queen turned towards the two Unsullied who were guarding the Kingslayer.

“The _moment_ she wakes up,” she told them in Valerian. “I want to be told about it and I want an audience with her in the throne room.”

“Yes, My Queen,” Jaehaerys said, looking far less eager to carry out his orders then an Unsullied should have.

But they did their duty four days later, looking guilty as sin as they told Daenerys that she was awake, like they were somehow betraying the man they were guarding by telling the Queen.

 

**Even your own Unsullied is going against you. Men you freed from chains are turning their back on you. This is what she wants. This is what the Kingslayer wants.**

 

“Go with them to fetch her,” she told Greyworm without taking their eyes off of Jaehaerys or Dustmagget. “If she doesn’t come willingly, drag her. If the Kingslayer fights you, kill him.”

“Yes My Queen,” Greyworm said obediently, proud to serve the dragon.

 

**Trust Greyworm. Only Greyworm.**

 

It was minutes later when the door to her makeshift throne room opened mad she inhaled sharply as her eyes fell on the tall blonde.

Most of the swelling had gone down and the bruises had faded to a sickly green and yellow rather than black and blue but the gauze still laid heavy on her cheek.

But what took her breath away was the fact that Brienne wasn’t wearing her usual armor or mail, but a light blue sand silk shirt that put her rounded stomach on full display, her hand overtop of the growing bump and wearing that lion pommel sword and a jade and gold hilted dagger.

 

**She’s doing this to mock me. She’s flaunting her pregnancy to mock me or to garner sympathy.**

 

The Kingslayer stood by her side, his remaining fingers twitching as if he was itching to grab the dagger the tall woman wore on her crimson scabbard. Her Maester stood behind her looking between the Queen and the knight.

Daenerys took a long deep breath before she spoke, forcing violet eyes to meet blue, trying to sound as queenly as possible.  “Lady Brienne… I am so sorry for my Bloodrider did to you. I made them swear a vow in front of their sacred mountain back in Essos not to harm women in that way.” She looked at the Kingslayer who looked back unflinching. “Clearly, some men take their oaths more seriously than others.”

“Clearly,” the Kingslayer shot back, ignoring the pleading look the blonde knight gave him.

Her fingers curled around the arms of her throne. Another deep breath. “The Dothraki have a custom. In order to protect a woman’s lives and virtue, the riders will sometimes marry the woman they’ve mounted. If you were interested-.”

“Are you mad?!” the Kingslayer shouted, emerald eyes wide with shock and fury. “You’re proposing marriage between them?!”

Daenerys glared at the man. “You will hold your tongue, Kingslayer.”

“You want her to marry the man who tried to rape her, who mutilated her face? What in the seven hells is wrong with you?!”

“Ser Jaime, **_stop_ **,” Brienne barked with warning.

“It was a possible option she could take, that’s all. And I don’t recall asking your opinion on the matter. One more word from you, Kingslayer, and I will make sure you’re never able to utter another word again.”

 

**They both look scared at that. Even though they’re trying to hide it, they’re scared. Good.**

 

Daenerys turned back towards Brienne. “It’s your choice, Lady Brienne.”

“Thank you for the option, Your Grace, but I’ll have to decline. I have no wish to marry the man who… the man who hurt me.”

“Very well. Onto other matters; why did you hide your pregnancy from me and from the court?”

Daenerys saw her swallow hard and the knights unattractive crimson blush crept down her neck.

“I-… I was ashamed, Your Grace,” she said, looking anywhere but the Queen, so unused to telling lies that it was like watching a child try to claim they didn’t sneak a pasty when the crumbs were in their shirt. “It’s dishonorable to have a baby out of wedlock. I hid the pregnancy to protect my honor.”

 

**She’s lying. She hid it because of me. Because she knows the Kingslayers son will grow up to murder me and she wanted to hide her plans from me. Same reason why she had my Bloodrider put in chains.**

 

_That wasn’t her doing. He attacked her. I choose to put him in chains. I can get another Bloodrider._

 

**None will be as strong as Raeko. She knows this. She wants to kill you, the Kingslayer wants to kill you, his son will want to kill you.**

  


“Yet you didn’t care about your honor when you laid with the Kingslayer outside the bonds of marriage. Multiple times at that.”

Her blush deepened and she looked down at the ground. “No, Your Grace.”

“Or when you and him made Winterfell aware of your affairs by being a very public couple.”

Another, “no, Your Grace.”

“So why, Lady Brienne, did you hide your pregnancy from the court?”

Brienne opened her mouth and closed it like a fish out of water, scrambling to come up with an excuse. She really was terrible at lying…

“Pardon me, Your Grace.”

Daenerys turned her attention towards the Maester who had helped Greyworm as he stepped forward. “Lady Brienne hid her pregnancy from Her Grace and the court because she wasn’t sure that it would survive its time in her womb. All three of her mother’s pregnancies was long fought and perilous and the Evenstars wife was on the verge of dying and losing her children almost daily. Ser Bruenne lost her twin siblings when they were but two weeks old and then her mother followed them into the grave three weeks later because of complications from the birth.”

Daenerys saw the pain in Briennes face at that memory and watched her look away from even the concerned eyes of the Kingslayer.

 

_It’s the truth._

 

**She wasn’t afraid because she thought her baby might die. She’s afraid of me.**

 

_No but her mother dying and losing her siblings. That IS real._

 

“That was why she summoned me from Tarth in the first place, Your Grace, to help her with her pregnancy,” Waldon continued. “Incase it turns out to be as difficult as her mother’s had been she would have a maester on hand who is unfortunately very well versed in these matters. She didn’t want to make anyone but the father and the Lady Stark and her squire aware of the pregnancy, that way she wouldn’t have to answer questions regarding the baby if something happened to it. Ser Jaime told Lord Tyrion, I assume, because it’s the baby’s uncle, and Ser Davos found out by accident while Ser Brienne was taking her supper in the woods one day and had her armor off. She didn’t even want to tell her father just yet, the Evenstar figured it out himself.”

Daenerys looked at the tall knight, eyes bearing into her face. “Is this true, Lady Brienne?”

A deep breath and then her eyes looked up and met hers. “It is, Your Grace.”

Daenerys kept her eyes locked on Briennes for a long while until finally they looked away. Her pale skin flushed with blush.

 

**Lies!**

 

“Very well,” she said coldly. “Is there anything else I’m able to do for you, Lady Brienne?”

Brienne bit her oversized lip almost guiltily and she shifted uncomfortably where she stood. “I-... Your Grace, I-...” Her eyes blinked rather rapidly, something she remembered overhearing the Kingslayer say meant she was nervous. “I would like to request permission for- for Lady Sansa and I to leave Kingslanding. And for you to allow Ser Jaime and my father to leave the capital as well. We have committed no crimes and there is no reason for us to stay here and I would like to return to Tarth before the baby comes.”

 

**They want to leave to plot against me. They want to assemble their forces and take my throne! That will not happen, I will kill them all before they take my throne! The Kingslayer, his lover, the Evenstar, the Stark bitch and even the bastard cub! I will kill them all, I will destroy them all, I will-!**

 

Daenerys stood from her throne, her breath trembling as hard as her hand. She looked down her nose at the tall knight.

“We shall see,” was all the Queen said, and it was said with such a sharpness that it made her intentions as clear as water.

Brienne closed her eyes and her head sank. “Yes, Your Grace,” she muttered, defeated.

She and Waldon bowed their heads as Daenerys swept from the hall but the Kingslayer kept his chin tipped, his eyes looking defiantly into hers the whole length of the throne room.

 

**The Kingslayer has a child. The former Queens nephew. He could press a claim. He could grow up and murder you, the same as his father did to mine. You need to protect yourself. You need to protect your throne. You need to rip the Lannister’s out root and stem, bastard and trueborn. You need to destroy them, you need to destroy them, you need to-.**

 

“Burn them all,” the Dragon whispered as she made her way down the corridors.

And she would.

 

Please Review!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last ‘Midnight Sun’ style chapter in this fic, I promise.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the long update wait like this chapter wouldn’t behave at ALL and even now I’m not all that happy with it :-(

The two of them made their way back to her chambers after their appointment with the Queen and Brienne had been stewing beside him the whole time. Waldon went to go tell Sansa Pod and Selwyn she was finally awake (as well as had an audience with the Queen) and left the two of them on their own.

Jaime could see she was trying not to snap at the two Tarth knights that flanked her but the storm in her eyes whenever she looked at them showed just how irksome she found the idea of her own private guard. When they got back to her apartment Jaime watched as she told them she didn’t require their services anymore.

“Your father’s orders, M’lady,” one of them told her, a fairly tall lanky young man with thick strawberry blonde curls and pale green eyes. “We’re to stay with you and keep you safe until you’re out of Kingslanding.”

“I don’t need a guard,” Brienne said stubbornly. “I can take care of myself.”

Jaime saw the guards eyes flicker to the bandage on her cheek, as if that somehow contradicted her words and he had a sickening feeling that in the guards mind it did. Brienne must have saw the look too because her blush went all the way past the neckline of her shirt and she turned her crimson face away from him. 

“Be that as it may, M’lady, the Evenstar gave us a command and we intend to follow it.”

She let out a an annoyed huff before she stormed into her chambers, once again leaving Jaime an invitation in the form of an open door. Before he followed her, he turned towards the knight encased in rose tinted armor.

“You know…” he mused. “Had one of my father’s guards insulted one of his children to their face, that man would have begged for a death that would come far later then he would have liked.”

The guard bristled. “I would never insult-.”

“But you did. And if you do it again, as well as not listen to her when she says she doesn’t want a guard, not only will I inform Lord Selwyn you refuse to heed her but I will personally make sure you defend your looks with that sword.” Jaime reached out and flicked the dark pink leather hilt and gifted him a smile that could cut steel. “Think on that, would you?”

Without another word Jaime turned on his heel and followed Brienne into her chambers, shutting the door behind them. She was already sitting on the bed, rubbing her temples with her fingers with her eyes closed and her face scrunched up in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked, trying to keep the panic inside him from rising. “Do you need me to get the Maester?”

She started to shake her head then winced at the simple movement. “I’m fine.” 

_ Liar.  _

“It’s just a headache.”

He waited patiently for her to force her eyes open and look at him. The bruises on her face were still prominent, although they had faded to ugly shades of yellow and green rather than blue and purple, and the gauze on her cheek hid the scar that he knew was healing underneath. There wasn’t much she could do to hide the chunk of hair Raeko had ripped out other than just wait for it to grow out.

Jaime watched as she took a deep breath and forced herself to look at him. The pain in her head that she was trying so desperately to hide as clear as daylight. “I can’t believe you,” she finally settled on when she was able to speak.

Jaime blinked. “What?”

“You know what!” 

“I truly don’t.”

“Provoking the Queen to anger? Calling her mad right to her face? Not having the common sense to bow your head when she walked out of the room? What if she tries to hurt you for revenge? What if she tries to hurt the baby?”

“That will not happen,” the lion inside him growled. “She’s not going to touch her, and I don’t care if she goes after me, I will not bow to a dragon.  And I will call whoever suggests a woman wed the man who assaulted her mad as often as it pleases me.”

“That is my concern to be offended over, not yours,” Brienne argued. 

“Any offense unto you is my concern.”

Blue eyes rolled to the ceiling as she grabbed the pitcher of water Jaime had procured for her earlier and poured herself a cup. “Funny how you seemed to not be concerned with insults and offense on my person when you said that you wish you had killed me on the bridge and when you told me that I ruined your life.”

Jaime swallowed hard. His own words cut through him like a sword slicing through softened butter, grabbing hold of his heart and clenching painfully tight. The pain his own proclamation brought him was almost unbearable.

He couldn’t imagine how she was surviving it.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, as plainly as he could, as honestly as he could, as truthfully as he could. “I never… it was wrong of me to say that. Not only wrong of me, it was wrong  _ period _ . I never should have said it.”

She took a long drink of the water, rubbing the swell of her stomach as she did. “But you did.”

“I did,” he agreed. “I could come up with a hundred excuses; I was angry, I was upset, I was sick of everyone forgetting Cersei may have been a hateful woman but she was still my sister before anything else.” Brienne shuffled guiltily at that and cast her eyes to the floor. “But none of that matters,” Jaime continued as if he hadn’t noticed. “It doesn’t change the fact that I had no right to hurt you and that I was wrong. You didn’t ruin my life, Brienne, you saved it.”

Brienne scoffed at his proclamation and it was like a dagger to her heart. She had really believed him when he told her she ruined his life...

“It’s true.” He said the words sharply, bluntly, almost angrily. He spoke so sternly that when she turned to him, she was almost taken aback. “You saved me. You saved me on the way down to Kingslanding, you saved me during the long night, you saved me from giving up after my hand was taken... You saved the part of me I forgot even existed.”

Jaime walked over to the bed, kneeling in front of his wide eyed knight and turning his gaze to her bruised and scarred face. “I would carve out my heart and offer it to the Warrior Himself if He would make it so I never said those words because they aren’t true, not one of them.”

He saw her big blue eyes grow wet and watched as she blinked her tears away just as quick as they came. “Jaime, you… you don’t understand how deep your words cut.”

“I do.”

“You don’t though. I can handle insults, I can handle cruelty, I can handle remarks and stares from any man alive. None of it touches me.” She looked into his eyes. “Except when it’s you. Even when we first met, I-... you provoked me to anger quicker then anyone I’ve ever met, during our trip down the river you aggitated me to the point I wanted to break my oath and run you through.” He thought he saw a shadow of a grin at the memory. “You’re the first man to make me happy, TRULY, unconditionally happy and when I’m with you it feels like I could rival the beauty of the Maid Herself. Even with Renly, I didn’t… You bring out the most of every one of my emotions, nothing about what you make me feel is a half-way mark. I feel things deeper when I’m with you.”

Jaime smiled up at her. He lifted a hand to take hers but he pulled back before she could notice it, still unsure of how she would feel with a mans touch. “I really make you feel all that?”

“You do.” Her voice was trembling. “But that also means that I feel pain deeper when I’m with you, I feel sadness deeper, I feel hurt deeper… You may have been the first man to make me smile but you’re the first man to make me fall to my knees and weep until I had no more tears left to spend. What you said that to me, I… Jaime, I don’t know how I’m going to be able to forgive you for that.”

The words themselves didn’t hurt him. Not as much as he thought he would. He had prepared himself for that, for her inability to accept his apology. But the fact she sounded upset, that she was genuinely sorry she wasn’t able to exonerate him and gift him forgiveness… that was what rivaled the pain of being trapped under the bricks of the Red Keep.

_ Why is she so good? Why have the Gods made me care for such a loving woman while I’m so hateful? _

It was almost a curse at times, knowing how he could never rise up to meet or even come close her level of honor or decency or kindness or loyalty, no matter how hard he tried. He would never be sorry he couldn’t accept someone’s apology, he would never have his stomach twisting in knots over his inability to put someone that hurt him at ease. 

Brienne was perfect, and Jaime was the shadow of a flea on a swine.

Jaime took a deep breath, gazing up at her. The mid-morning light was shining through her window and her blonde hair looked a halo of pale gold.

“I know you can’t forgive me right now,” he told her. “And I know you have a lot more things on your mind that take precedence over then listening to my apologies, but I swear to you, My Lady; I will spend every day the Stranger spares me making up the pain I caused you.”

And he did. Or at least tried too.

A fortnight passed. 

Every evening Jaime still dutifully went down to the blueberry patch and gathered a bowl full of the sweet ripe berries for her dinner that he delivered to her chambers just after sunset when he knew the early rising knight would be resting after supper. The first few times she, finally, accepted without a word, something he considered a miracle in and of itself. On the fourth day she invited him in to share them with her (and when she offered to ‘share’ them, she meant she would give him a raised eyebrow when he reached out for a handful and she would pull the bowl towards her, eyeing him as if he meant to rob her of all the gold in Casterly Rock.)

The swelling in her face had gone away completely and the bruises had faded even more, but she kept the thick white gauze on her cheek.

“He cut me deep, it’ll take a while to heal,” Brienne told him when she caught him staring one day, blushing crimson and looking away.

Jaime and Brienne were both well aware that what was under the gauze was as healed as it was going to be but he made no mention of it and just gave her a respectful bow and the two of them turned back to their supper of roasted chicken and blueberry tarts.

She bought another set of armor; unadorned grey metal with a broken oak branch painted in faded and chipped green paint on its breastplate. It wasn’t meant to hide her pregnancy, there was no need for it now seeing as how the whole castle knew she was heavy with child, but she said it made her feel less naked walking around the Red Keep, it made her feel like she was protecting their daughter from the dragon’s heated and hateful gazes.

Daenerys choose a new Bloodrider, a younger rider with an inky black braid that was a few inches past his shoulder named Arro. He was fierce and deadly with his curved blade, though not near as fierce and deadly as Raeko had been.

Arro also, if rumors were to be believed, preferred the company of his fellow riders then his Queen. Jaime had a feeling there was a reason why Daenerys choose such a young horse lord to be Bloodrider and it had nothing to do with his skill as a fighter. 

Brienne did what she could with the clean up, having to take far more breaks than before and finally, grudgingly, accepted Jaime’s offer to help her with the more physical aspects of the work. He worked side by side with her, ate and talked with her over the ‘shared’ bowl of blueberries, supped and broke his fast with her, ignoring the cold stares from Sansa and Pod and occasionally Selwyn, although the Evenstar to his credit had seemed to taper his hatred just so after he heard that Jaime didn’t leave his daughters room once during her poppy sleep. (The fact that Jaime saved half a million people from burning alive seemed to improve relations as well…)

Jaime also watched as Brienne sparred with Pod in the training yard, and he ran to get her ice water when the headaches pounded in her skull got so bad she could barely walk and she would need to sit in a pitch black room with the windows open and a cool cloth on her head sometimes for hours to cure it. It was all very domestic and complacent and normal.

And that was what terrified and confounded Jaime. Rhaella was scared and her whole body trembled, her eyes wet and weary, after her nights with the Mad King. She flinched and screamed at another’s hand even brushing against her, she woke in the night weeping and screaming, she was visibly terrified of her king and flinched at his name, she took baths that would last hours and her tears would mingle with the water, scrubbing her fair skin so raw it bled. She had even been stiff and shook when the prince Viserys was in her arms and he nuzzled his face against her breast.

His twin had walked around in a daze the morning after, green eyes not seeing, her ears not hearing, her whole being separated from reality. She would make the motions of living, eating, drinking (wine, of course) doing her Queenly duties, but her soul and conscious mind had fled from her. The nights after Cersei and Jaime would meet late at night, when the castle was asleep and not even the cooks were awake yet, in one of the tower cells and she would take him rough, hard, wild, her nails drawing blood as they raked against his skin. She would sit astride him, yanking his hair back, riding him, claiming Jaime as her own, using her brother’s sweat and cum to wash away the stench of stag. 

He always pretended not to notice the tears in the corner of her eyes when he came inside her.

Brienne though… she didn’t flinch. She acted normal when she wasn’t supposed to be normal. She wasn’t supposed to grab Pods hand when he went to help his lady up from her chair, she wasn’t supposed to grace the world with that small shy smile when Sansa paid her a compliment, she wasn’t supposed to be so… unaffected.

One evening as they made their way to her chambers Jaime asked her if she was alright. Brienne looked at him, almost confused and answered that she was fine.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes…? As fine as can be expected, of course.”

The answer wasn’t satisfactory to the knight. 

“I mean you’ve just… you don’t act like… you don’t seem to be affected by it. You aren’t… acting as how someone whose been assaulted like this should be acting.”

Her face turned crimson; not the all over blush when she was embarrassed or the soft glow to her cheeks when she was aroused, but a blotchy red. That was how Jaime knew she was angry. 

The scowl she wore just confirmed that.

“My Lady forgive me, I-.”

“I’m not craving anything tonight,” she said stiffly and without waiting for a response she stormed off to her room, slamming the door shut behind her and leaving Jaime kicking himself once again, helped in no small part by Jaehaerys telling him he was acting like the ‘tail end of a horse.’

The next morning he showed up as per usual with his bowl of blueberries for her, fully prepared for her not to let him in again, when a noise inside stalled him.

Brienne, sobbing, and then a hard thud against a wall.

“Brienne!” he cried, rushing in. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find but her sitting on her bed in tears with her head bowed, her knees pulled to her chest with her arms wrapped around them and her boot throw across the room was most assuredly not it.

“What happened?” Jaime demanded, his eyes scanning her for signs of blood or bruises and finding none. “Brienne?”

She muttered something he couldn’t make out. 

“Are you hurt?” he tried again, fear catching in his throat. “Is the baby alright?”

“She’s fine,” his knight managed between tears. “I’m fine, we’re both fine, just  _ go _ .”

He swallowed hard. “If… if this is about yesterday, I-... I’m sorry. I know I wronged you and I’m sorry, I never should have said that.”

She shook her head, finally looking up from the ground and meeting his apologetic stare. Her blue eyes were rimmed with red and squinched slightly to shut out the light, the same as they always did when she was hit with her recent migraines. She looked hopeless, desperate, utterly unlike her usual stoic and strong self.

“My boots don’t fit,” Brienne said in a very un-Brienne way, her chin trembling and bottom lip pouting. 

Jaime blinked once, twice. “You’re… upset that your boots don’t fit?” 

Of all the things that he thought might upset Brienne of Tarth, not being able to wear certain footwear was at the absolute bottom of the list.

“Yes, my doe-skin rabbit fur lined boots, I had them specially made in Winterfell, they no longer fit, and I don’t even know why I’m a bloody wreck over them!” she wailed

Jaime bit back a smile. “Well… Brienne, you’re pregnant.”

“Thank you, Ser Jaime, I’m quite aware of that fact!”

“No, I-... I meant that when a woman’s heavy with child, sometimes they get emotional over things that they never would have even noticed before.”

“Well I notice it now! I notice everything now, and everything is changing! My feet have grown a whole size larger to the point I can no longer wear any of my shoes, my chest is bigger to where it’s nearly obscene, no matter what I do I can’t get my back to stop aching, I’ve wept more in the past few weeks then I ever have in my whole life and most times I don’t even know why, and these FUCKING headaches he gave me won’t go away!” 

Another sob ripped past her lips and she bowed her head, her shoulders shaking. “I just want things to be normal again! I just want everything normal…”

Any amusement he felt died as quickly as it was born. He had a very strong feeling that what she wanted back to normal wasn’t just the size of her breasts or her feet fitting into doe-skin rabbit fur lined boots.

Jaime made his way over to the tall knight and grabbed her hand, waiting for a flinch that never came, and pulled her to her feet.

“Jaime, no, I just want to rest,” she protested.

“My Aunt Genna used to get headaches,” he explained as he led her out of the chambers and down the maze of stone halls and carpeted corridors with Dustmagget and Jaehaerys behind them, bare footed on her part. “When they’d get really bad she always had a nice hot bath and she said that was the only thing that helped.”

It was only a partial lie. 

Cersei has been the one to get headaches, Cersei had been the one to sink into a perfumed bath near boiling, not even washing the sweat and stink from her skin but just sat there, head leaned back against the metal tub while the hot water soaked into her muscles and rid her head of the pounding of hooves, Cersei was the one that Jaime made feel better when she leaned up against his chest. 

But Brienne didn’t need to be made aware of the particulars.

Jaime opened the door to their ‘private’ bath, the unsullied guards stood watch outside, and walked in a half stumbling Brienne who was shielding her eyes from the light of the torches and candles. Even that faint light and short walk seemed to be too much for her. He led her to the chair that she had cut his hair in and sat her down, watching as she buried her face in her hands. Each breath slow and deliberate as if each one of them pained her and Jaime had a sickening feeling they did. 

Damn that Dothraki to the deepest pits of all seven hells. 

Waldon said she hit her head, hard, several times judging by how many cuts and bumps littered her skull and the fact that her hair had all been dyed crimson when they found her.  He said there would be headaches afterwards, quite a few headaches. The Maester didn’t tell Jaime they would be so debilitating that it would knock a woman as strong as Brienne into the dust several times a week. 

There was a medicine, made from willow bark, that would have helped rid her of the stabbing in her skull, but seeing as how she was pregnant neither Brienne nor the Maester felt comfortable with her taking anything. So she was forced to suffer through them, closing her eyes against the light, trying to sleep through the pain, and placing a cold towel on her brow.

Sometimes it worked, often times it didn't.

Jaime stoked the fires underneath the great stone tub until there was steam rising off the water and then went over and kneeled in front of the blonde knight and placed a hand on her knee. When she lifted her head their eyes met.

“Do you need help?” His offer was sincere and soft spoken, and he prayed that she wouldn’t take it as him just trying to get her clothes off.

Any other time it would have been, but not right now.

Brienne closed her eyed then nodded, her face turning as red as Dornish wine as Jaime’s hand went to her shirt and tugged at the loosely tied knot.

He forced his eyes to stare at a spot on the stone wall as he undid the laces on her shirt, thankful she had worn one of the shirts he had made for her at Winterfell today (one that could easily come undone with one hand) trying his damndest not to think of all the times in Winterfell where he undressed her much less his failed attempt at the first time. 

After the laces came undone Brienne sluggishly shrugged it off, having barely enough strength to lift her arms and cover her breasts from view. Jaime helped her stand, steadying her as she stumbled just slightly, emerald eyes locked on the swell of her stomach.

He looked away without being asked as she undid her breeches and kept his head turned as she slowly made her way across the bath house and climbed into the large stone tub, the groan that escaped her not much different than the groan she made in the bedroom.

Jaime watched as her blue eyes closed and she leaned her head back against the stone, the water coming up just below her collarbone. 

“You’re right,” she sighed after a while. “This does make me feel better…”

“Told you it would,” Jaime added, undoing the laces and taking off his own shirt, keeping his eyes on her all the while. He stepped out of his trousers and, with a deep breath, climbed into the bath. 

“What are you doing?” Brienne asked without opening her eyes or moving from her position.

“I need a bath.”

“There’s another tub.”

Jaime smiled as he sat down next to her, the hot water soothing the aches in his muscles and relaxing his worried mind. “This one suits me fine.” 

He waited for her to tell him to leave, that this wasn’t appropriate, that she wanted to soak alone, that she was uncomfortable with his presence, but she said nothing and almost seemed more relaxed when he moved to sit beside her.

No words were passed, no glances, as far as Jaime knew seeing as how his eyes were closed, nothing but the gentle lapping of the hot water against the stone and their skin. There was a comfortable domestic silence, the same they had shared in Winterfell together when they both sat by the fire and sharpened their valyrian steel, or when she would buff and shine her armor while he tidied up the room they had taken to calling ‘theirs.’

After a while Jaime slowly opened his eyes and turned to face her, studying her face. It actually looked relaxed for once. Her shoulders were loose and relaxed rather than tensed, her face was calm not wrinkled in pain. 

She must have felt his gaze on her because her eyes opened as well and she turned to look at him, catching his emerald eyes and holding them in sapphires.

Neither of them spoke. Neither one of them appeared lustful, neither of them looked in awe of the other (though Jaime certainly was), just with a simplicity that they both seemed to crave. And then, with a suddenness that stunned both of them, Brienne moved in-between his legs and rested his head against his shoulders.

Jaime was frozen for a moment, his mind whirling as fast as a dornish stallion might run. This was a familiar stance but one he thought he would never get to be in again, or not, at least any time in the near future. But when she relaxed into him, Jaime’s muscles eased up and his arms took their rightful spot wrapped around her waist and he rested his head on her broad wet shoulder and her hands cane up her fingers absentmindedly traced the scars on his stump.

For a moment he forgot what he did to her, for a moment he forgot about Cersei and Daenerys and Raeko and Selwyn and everything else but the tall woman in his arms. For a moment, he forgot everything but her. He even forgot they weren’t together any longer… But that didn’t give him pause, not when he had her wrapped in an embrace that was familiar to the point he might as well have spent his entire life holding her in the hot water. 

Something troubled him though. She shouldn’t want this intimate of a touch, she shouldn’t want to be pressed up against his naked wet body three weeks after an assault.

Jaime almost put an end to it, sure that she would regret this, but he was too selfish a man, and Brienne was almost as warm and comforting as the water surrounding them.

“Brienne?” he said after a spell, almost ashamed of breaking their peace.

“Hmm?” she asked without opening her eyes.

He bit his lip. She had gotten so upset the other night when he brought this up and it would disturb the tranquility they both found surrounding them… “I… forgive me, My Lady, I know I asked you this the other night and you got angry at me…”

Her eyes opened at that but she didn’t look towards him. He felt her tense in his arms but not as much as he thought. “I’m sorry, I just… I’ve… known women who’ve been… hurt, and-.”

“And you expect us all to act the same?” She didn’t sound angry, not really, but Jaime grimaced at her response all the same. She looked back down at the water, her blue eyes weak and weary. “I don’t… like things disrupting my life,” she explained. “I don’t like giving evil people, evil things power over me.”

“Sometimes we don’t have a choice,” Jaime muttered, forcing Cersei’s face from swimming to the surface of his mind. 

“I know some don’t,” she said quickly. He had a feeling the same Lioness had just appeared to Brienne as well. “But if I do, I don’t want those things to disrupt my life, I just… I want to move on from bad things. I want normalcy, I  _ like _ normalcy, in cases like this. Men like Locke and Raeko…” she shook her head, eyes still downcast. “They don’t deserve power me.”

Jaime remembered now, how she never flinched from when they sat face to face after he lost his hand and how she didn’t even seem to notice his rotting hand would slap against her breast after nearly being gang raped, she didn’t flinch when they made her clean him after the fever ravaged half delusional knight soiled himself, she was more upset that Jaime had insulted Brienne’s ability to protect her stag king rather than the fact he climbed into the bath with her not even a week after she was nearly molested.

He had also heard rumors that after he left Locke had tried to rape her again after being ‘cheated’ out of the sapphires but she fought him off, nearly biting off his ear as thanks when he climbed on top of her. That was why he had ordered her thrown in the bearpit.

Bolton’s pet rat was going to get entertainment from Brienne one way or another.

But she never hesitated even for a second when they slept close to one another, none of them trusting Bolton’s men for all the gold in Casterly Rock, she didn’t mind helping him with his rags when he needed help dressing…

She didn’t let Locke or Bolton’s men change her, and she wasn’t about to let some horselord from across the narrow sea change her either. 

Her fingers never stopped their gentle crisscross of touches over his stump, not even when he asked her why she didn’t just use poppy milk to rid herself of her headaches, the safe alternative with the rosemary root.

“It gives me dreams,” she argued, almost too soft for him to hear.

“Dreams can’t hurt you.”

Brienne looked down at the water. She almost paused her fingers. “I can never beat him in my dreams,” she muttered.

Jaime just nodded slowly, and leaned back against the cool stone while Brienne leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. His hand came up and began to play with the short wet blonde locks at the nape of her neck, only pausing when Brienne said, “tell me about her.”

“Who?”

“Cersei.”

“Why?” he asked, cautiously.

Brienne looked, one of the few times she could, up at him. “She was your twin sister, Jaime. She carried four of your children. I’m not going to begrudge you the opportunity to talk about her, I’m not going to forbade you from ever mentioning her name again…”

Jaime went back to playing with her hair, running his fingers through the short soft locks. “She wasn’t always that way,” he said softly. “There was a time when she was good and decent… no ones born hateful.”

Brienne said nothing, just laid back against him and looked forward, running her fingers over the scars where a hand used to be.

“When I was five I had a little wooden knight,” Jaime began after a long stretch of silence. “It was painted red and gold, it had a little white horse that went with it, even wore a little lion helm I could take on and off. So one day I asked if I could have a doll to go along with it, because who else was the knight supposed to save? My knight needed a fair maiden to rescue and marry… My father told me that boys don’t play with dolls and forbade me from asking the toy maker to make me one. Then one night Cersei comes into the room and she had this wooden doll. A little smaller than my knight but it was made the same way, with long blonde hair, green eyes, a red and gold dress…”

A smile found its way to his face as he remembered the toys, as he remembered the way he and Cersei used to play ‘knight and maiden’ and the way his knight would slay fire breathing dragons and defended the maiden from the barbaric Northmen and their wolves as big as horses and sometimes knight AND maiden would fight against the terrible White Walkers and grumpkins and snarks that came screeching down from the wall… 

“She didn’t ask for anything in return, she didn’t use it as a bargaining chip, it wasn’t even our name day; she had it made and gave it to me just because she knew I wanted a doll for my knight to save. All she wanted was to be nice to me.”

He looked down and saw the corners of Brienne's mouth turned upwards. “That was very kind of her.”

“It was. Gods I had hours of fun playing with those; my knight and my maiden...” Jaime’s smile faded. “Until my father threw the doll in the fire after he caught me playing with it and fired the toy maker.”

The blonde knight bowed her head. “Jaime, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. But… no, Cersei wasn’t always like what everyone else saw.  After our mother died she changed, she became cruel and mean and hateful and I couldn’t save her…” He took a shuddering breath. “Not even at the end.”

He saw Brienne bring her bottom lip between his teeth but to her credit she kept to the promise not to comment or offer opinions on stories and musings done in the baths unless asked.

Jaime didn’t ask her for an opinion this time.

They sat there, both in silence until the water started to cool and the candles on the walls were burning low. Jaime turned to his lady knight who looked more relaxed then he had seen her in the past few weeks.

“How’s your head?” he asked.

“Better. I think I’m-.” He watched as her eyes went wide and her jaw opened, her words silenced as quick as she began.

“Brienne?” His heart slammed against his ribs and a thousand terrifying thoughts assaulted him with steel. “Brienne, what happened? Are you alright?”

She didn’t answer. She looked down at the water and pulled his hand away from his stump and when he looked down he saw her embracing the bump that held their babe. Jaime was about to demand to know what was happening again when a smile as big as anything he had ever seen, even bigger then when he knighted her, broke across her face and tears of joy filled her big blue eyes.

“I feel her,” she breathed so softly he almost missed it. Brienne turned towards Jaime and he almost wanted to laugh at the elation that he never thought she would ever wear. “I- I feel her, Jaime, she’s moving…”

“Is this the first time you’re feeling her?”

Brienne nodded, sniffing and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before it immediately went back to embracing her stomach. “I- I mean there were things before but I wasn’t sure if it was just regular stomach pains but this is her, I know it.” 

Jaime grinned at his knight before he dared his hand to slip over her stomach. Brienne turned to look up at him and his smile grew when he saw the sheer rapture in her expression.

_ She’s so beautiful… _

“She’s happy,” she told him in a teary whisper. “Our cub’s happy, Jaime, I know she is. I don’t know how I know but I do, she’s happy.”

“Why wouldn’t she be? She has the best mother in all of Westeros, I’d be happy too.”

Brienne reached up and cupped his face in her large hand, her thumb stroking his cheek in an unsettlingly familiarity that reminded him of the night he left Winterfell. “She has the best father too.”

His emerald eyes flooded with tears. He turned his head and softly kissed her calloused palm. He looked down at her and his eyes searched over her face. Her lips were parted just slightly and he wanted nothing more than to capture them in a kiss. 

Brienne swallowed hard and pulled away from him, her blush traveling almost halfway down her body as her leg brushed up against his thigh, making his cock stir in the bath water.

“We should get back.”

Jaime closed his eyes as she climbed out of the tub. After willing his body’s reaction away, he climbed out after her and after he dried off using one of the threadbare towels lounging around he pulled back on his clothes.

“Ser Jaime.”

The lion turned towards her and before he could even blink her lips were pressed against his cheek.

“Thank you,” Brienne muttered as her face burned crimson as if she were a maid again rather than a woman with child before she hurried from the room and leaving him with a smile.

Jaime found out he too rather liked normalcy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH i know this sucked, I’m sorry :-(  
> Like nothing seemed to fit or flow and I had like very little inspiration which is weird because the chapters where they’re actually together are the second easiest to write for me (Brienne without Jaime actually is the easiest to write and they always seem to flow better. I don’t know if that comes through in the writing but now you know lol.) Maybe because there wasn’t a lot of plot and that made it hard to advance? I don’t know but I’m sorry it’s trash lol.  
> Also there will be more of a lag in updates then usual because I’m going to be alternating between this and Resuscitate (go check it out if you haven’t already. MIND THE TAGS!) so I’ll be writing one chapter for this then a chapter for that and so on and so fourth... but I am determined to finish this story❤️


	20. Chapter 20

Brienne loved silences. She preferred it even over loud chattering and hearty laughs and whispers followed by the giggling of girls. Because, even if she couldn’t hear what they were saying she always had a sickening sinking feeling they were talking about her or laughing at her discomfort at feasts or gossiping about her absorb height or ugliness… Even at Evenfall where she was supposed to be granted respect just by being their future Lady, and the older she grew without taking a husband the closer she got to becoming their Evenstar, she was sure that she was being mocked in her own home by the inhabitants she was to one day lead.

In Kingslanding her paranoia was no less prevalent, especially now that the whole castle knew not only about the unwed pregnancy but about the assault. So when she heard laughter or talking in the vast Redkeep she jumped to the conclusion that it was about her. Of course it was, big ugly Brienne pregnant out of wedlock who had been nearly raped by a Dothraki Bloodrider… Who wouldn’t talk and gossip about that?

That’s why she preferred silence especially when she took her meals, or if she had to dine with someone she liked to eat in her chambers with just her and Jaime where she knew the only laughter she would hear wouldn’t be cruel and mocking but kind and full of joy and sweetness.

Even when she sat across from her father she wanted nothing more than the thick silence that she revealed in to continue but Selwyn had other plans.

It was the first night where what Westeros called the evenstar, the namesake of the title belonging to the lord’s and king’s of Tarth appeared in the night sky. It was the brightest star in the sky with a bluish glow to its spokes, even outshining the moons white light.

In other parts of Westeros it was just another day where if you happened to look up at night, you would see a star brighter than all the others. But in Tarth it was treated as one of their most sacred holidays. On the island it was said that the very first king of Tarth, Bastian Evenstar, had been allowed to take the form of the star after his death for his gift of raising the island of Tarth from the seas. The star shone only for one month in the night sky before it disappeared for a year.

After the sun dipped down below the horizon that first night the star shone in the sky, nearly the entire island would gather to watch the Evenstar, the man not the star, step into the mirror pool, an inland body of water that was so clean and clear you could count every grain of sand on the bottom that reflected the night sky down to the wisps of blue amongst the black with the evenstar shining down in the middle of it.

The Lord of Tarth would step into the pool and submerge himself entirely, allowing the water to surround him and it appeared he was bathing in the folds of the stars and moons, and he seemed to become part of the night sky itself.

Brienne witnessed the ceremony every year she spent on Tarth until she left to go fight for Renly and every single year, when her father came up from air, there were tears mingled with the star dotted waters on his face.

She asked Selwyn once why he always cried after he bathed in the pool and all he told her was that she would understand one day.

Afterwards there was always a feast outside of Evenfall Hall under the night sky with singers and jugglers and fools coupled with amazing food and hot spiced wine and the island itself seemed to come alive. Torches littered the beaches and people would swim in the sapphire waters and there was always joy and laughter and smiles and music until the sun came up, and usually, at least three or four births nine months to the date after the bright star rises in the sky.

In Kingslanding, their ‘feast’ was rack of lamb baked in a crust of garlic and herbs, with a mint sauce, and surrounded by white potatoes swimming in butter and chives and, of course, Brienne had the blueberries Jaime brought her earlier that night. There was no music, no singers, no torch lit swims, their feast was nothing out of the ordinary, and more importantly, no bathing in the mirror pool. One of the guards suggested blackwater bay but the waters were too dark to reflect anything, and they smelled to this day of wildfire smoke and sulfur.

So Brienne, Selwyn and two of his guards all sat outside the Red Keep in the clearing where Brienne had cooked her hare. She wasn’t sure where Hayden or Aileen was but if they didn’t want to be apart of the makeshift celebration that made it all the better for the tall knight.

Brienne wore a blue jerkin dusted with silver stars with a pale yellow crescent moon fashioning, plain black breeches and Jaime’s dark brown weathered boots.

Nearly all the cobbler shops in Kingslanding had gone up in flames and Tyrion had set the remaining two to making shoes for those who had their belongings and homes torched which meant there was no one to make her a pair of boots as big as she required so the lion freely lent Brienne a pair of his. They were still snug but they fit more comfortably then her doe-skin Winterfell boots.

White gauze still covered her right cheek.

Brienne still hadn’t even looked at it in the mirror and when her fingers brushed against the thick raised scar when she changed the unnecessary bandages she flinched as if she was being cut all over again.

Her headaches had also dulled to a near blinding throbbing, which was to say she felt a great deal better than they had been the week before when she could barely stand and needed Jaime’s help to undress.

Why did she have to fight? Why did she have to scream? He warned her twice to stay quiet and she didn’t listen to him.

The first time he had slammed her head over and over into a stone wall and then the next he threatened to give his scar a twin but she had to scream for help, she had to scream for Jaime... She should have just let Raeko do what he wanted. The ache between her legs would have faded as opposed to the constant pain in her head. The scar on her soul would have left no trace, unlike the one on her face.

But her baby... to this day Brienne still wasn’t sure if Raeko would have let her or the baby live once he was done with her, even if she had meekly submitted like he wanted. Her cub, Jaime’s cub; she needed her mother to fight for her and Brienne had, with not only every ounce of strength she had but with all of the small amount of cunning she possessed as well.

Her face may be ugly to the point not even Jaime wouldn’t be able to stomach looking at it and headaches might plague her the rest of her days but feeling her daughter move inside of her, happy and content and loved, was worth her pain a thousand times over.

“So how are you doing with everything?”

Selwyn’s voice broke through her thoughts and Brienne lifted her eyes from her plate to look at him.

Her father wore a dark blue tunic with right and left facing crescent moons made of white gemstones whose backs touched one another all the way down the middle of the ensemble, leather trousers dyed blue and midnight black leather boots dotted with stars.

“You’ve had a rough couple of weeks.” She shrugged and looked back at her plate.  “You’ve been very quiet tonight.”

“I’m always quiet.”

Selwyn took a healthy bite of lamb. “This isn’t your normal ‘please don’t talk to or notice me, I’m cripplingly shy and awkward’ silence, this is your ‘I don’t want to talk because I’m upset’ silence.”

“I didn’t realize you could analyze my different silences,” she muttered, keeping her eyes glued to her plate.

“I can.” He took a sip of wine and nodded to her swollen stomach. “You’ll know her silences as well.”

Brienne spooned a dainty bite of potatoes into her mouth to keep herself from having to respond.

After another stretch of quiet he tried again. “Have you thought at all about my offer? About Ser Hayden?”

Brienne’s spiced cider was halfway to her tongue but at her father’s question she pursed her swollen lips, setting the goblet down again. “I’ve had other things on my mind other than thinking about marriage to your household guard.”

Selwyn sighed, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin. “I’m aware you’ve had other things on your mind, that’s why I hate pushing this.”

The words that she never would have thought of throwing back at him had she not met Jaime left her before she could stop herself.  “Yet here you stand doing just that.”

His blue eyes narrowed at his daughter and she shifted uncomfortably in her spot on the grass. “Here I stand,” he said with almost a challenge in his deep voice. “Because he still wants to marry you, he’s still willing to give your child a name.”

“She has a name.”

“As of now she has a bastard name. Storm or Snow or Waters… You can give her a good strong name, your reputation can be saved.”

“I’d rather her be labeled a bastard and me a whore then let the man who only wants to marry me for my island into my bed or give my daughter his name.”

“Tarth is not yours yet,” the Evenstar reminded her with a warning on the edge of his voice.

“According to you it never will be mine unless I marry a man who has tormented me since I was fifteen over a lost melee.”

“A few unkind words said in his youth-.”

“I will not marry a man who never had a single kind word to say to me!” she barked finally looking up from her plate. “And if you’re THAT insistent then I will offer him to the same offer I made Ser Humphrey.”

“Brienne-.” Selwyn sighed.

“If he can beat me in a fight I’m all his,” she said quickly. “But considering he’s never once bested me in almost twenty years, I’m fairly confident I’ll come out on top.”

Selwyn gifted his daughter a sharp glare that left her shifting uncomfortably in her spot. “Why have the Gods cursed me with such an obstinate daughter?!” He studied her face for a moment. “You refusing Ser Hayden...,” Selwyn said carefully, “tell me you aren't just holding out for Lannister.”

Brienne shook her head. “No. Ser Jaime and I-... he has no plans to marry me.”

The realization made her sad.  Far sadder then she would have thought it would make her, certainly more upset then she thought she would have been in the weeks prior to this at least.

“Are you certain?” She nodded, her homely face even more sullen and grim than usual. “Because he was quite indigent when I told him I was bethrothing you to Ser Hayden.”

It was all she could do to keep from looking stunned. Is this why Jaime had been so tender to her these past few weeks? Is this why he climbed into the bath with her? Was it all stemming from an unfounded jealousy planted by her unwitting father over a man she would never have even made eyes with?

She really wishes the thought of a jealous Jaime, of a man so full of envy that he would try to win her heart when there was no living man who could hold a candle to the maimed lion, didn’t send her heart a flitter as much as it did.

“Really?” she breathed, her skin flushed with red that traveled well down past her neck.

He snorted, taking another bite of lamb. “Your refusal has nothing to do with Lannister at all, I’m sure.”

“It doesn’t,” Brienne insisted, willing the crimson heat away. “He’s cruel to me, Father, he always has been. Ser Hayden only wants a lordship, that’s all he sees me as; an easy access to Tarth and your title. More than like after we marry he’ll have a bastard with someone other than me and he’ll name them the heir to Tarth and our line will be shoved aside to a man who once said ‘it makes perfect sense a great big ugly beast will one day rule a great big ugly rock in the middle of the sea’. Granted you’re willing to set me aside on your own without any help from him,” she added, the words bitter poison on her tongue.

To his credit Selwyn looked rather guilty at that, and for a while neither of them spoke until, finally, Selwyn looked at her, big blue eyes seeming to see all the way through to her very soul.

“You should know something. I told Lannister that I would consider nullifying the agreement along with naming Ser Hayden as my heir if you had serious legitimate reservations regarding the betrothal.”

Her heart soared as high as the crescent moon they were supposed to be celebrating.

“Well?” Brienne breathed, doing her absolute best to hide the giddy almost child-like excitement.

The Evenstar blinked. “Well what? I said I’ll consider it, I will.”

And just like that her heart fell as soon as it was raised.

Sensing that was the end of the conversation the rest of the meager celebration was spent in the kind of silence Brienne usually reveled in but now the quiet was far too loud and after a few more bites of lamb that made her stomach roll, she thanked him for the meal, stood up, groaning slightly and having to steady herself as she did seeing as how she was unaccustomed to the extra weight in her midsection, and headed back towards the castle.

On her way back she heard faint drums and music and joyful shouting and the soft glow of torches. Curious, Brienne followed the sounds to another clearing on the other side of the castle, her heart seizing in fear when she came upon a fairy sizeable group of Dothraki whooping and shouting happily and dancing as some of the horse lords played the drums. What she recognized as horse meat basted with honey and peppers was turning on a spit and sour fermented mare's milk was being drank heartily by nearly everyone.

She swallowed hard, forcing the panic and fear rising in her down to a level that didn’t have her wanting to run the other way. A pair of young boys with braids that barely reached the bottom of the ears ran by grinning and yelling at one another in their tongue, barely sparing her half a glance. Elsewhere a young rider was smiling and whispering sweet words to a Dothraki woman with copper skin and long soft black hair who giggled and moved even closer to him, her warm brown eyes holding the same look that Westerosi maids wore when knights whispered in their ears the same way this rider was doing to her.

_They’re not all Raeko. They’re not all monsters…_

Brienne looked around and amongst all the copper skin and black braids she saw honey brown hair and sun kissed skin. And, to add to her confusion, she had tears running down her face and her shoulders were slumped

What was Aileen doing at a Dothraki feast? Crying nonetheless?

Aileen, wearing a pale blue sheer lace gown with golden stars covering the fabric that complimented her womanly figure and silver colored heels that added three inches to her height, had her head bowed and her slender bare shoulders occasionally shook as she fought against making her tears known to the world.

 _I should just leave,_ the tall knight told herself as she walked over to the woman. _She wouldn’t comfort me if she found me weeping_ …

Aileen looked up at Brienne and narrowed her honey brown eyes, wiping her tears away with the back of a dainty unblemished hand. “What are _you_ doing here?” the beautiful woman sneered, a slight slur to her words.

She was clearly drunk enough to forget her courtesies.

“I saw you crying,” Brienne explained flatly, every shy instinct in her urging her to flee from this woman and from the feast. “What are you doing here is the better question. What’s even going on?”

Aileen raised a large horn of fermented mare's milk. “The Dothraki celebrate the appearance of the evenstar too,” Aileen muttered. “They call it rahsan shierak, they believe it’s the first Khal to ever rise from the pyre.”

Brienne wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the fact that the people of her island and the Dothraki celebrated the same star in the sky and it meant something significant to each of them but she pushed aside that for now.

“That explains what’s going on here but why didn’t you join my father and I for supper? Our little gathering wasn’t not as exuberant as this I’ll admit but you’re of Tarth, you should have come.”

Her presence may have made her uncomfortable, she may have disliked her more than nearly every woman Selwyn had brought to Evenfall, she may have been uncomfortable and embarrassed that her father was a hypocrite regarding his honor with women, but she was still part of the island and celebrated the star with the rest of them.

“I don’t want to be anywhere near your bloody father right now,” she muttered, letting a bit of her lowborn accent shine through.

Brienne frowned at her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she grumbled, taking another swallow of mares milk.

_Just walk away, she doesn’t want your sympathy._

“Are you sure?”

“Why do you want to know how I’m feeling?” Aileen demanded finally turning to tall knight. Her honey brown eyes were rimmed with red with a heavy drunken gloss to them.  “Just go away, _My Lady of Tarth_ ,” she sneed, as if the title was a joke and not something she desperately coveted and was calling herself several weeks prior.

Brienne pursed her lips and gave her father’s paramour a curt nod. “Fine,” she snapped as cruel as her nature would allow, which was to say she said it with hardly any malice at all. “Stay here and drown yourself in tears and rotten milk, see if I care. I was only trying to be nice.”

She turned on the heel of Jaime’s boot and started to walk away when the other islanders words reached her.

“Your father’s considering naming Ser Hayden as his successor.”

Glancing back, Brienne watched as the younger woman’s shoulders slumped even more. She narrowed her blue eyes at the brown haired woman.  Aileen took another long swallow of the mares milk. “He’s considering naming Ser Hayden the next Evenstar and it's not fair,” she muttered into her horn.

“I agree but I didn’t realize my birthright was all that important to you,” Brienne said rather curiously.

“I don’t care about YOUR birthright, you stupid cow!” Aileen tossed back quickly. “I-...” She looked down at the ground, running her danger over the rim of her mug. “I thought I was going to marry him, I thought our son would… If we ever had a child together… I would be the Lady of Tarth and our son would be the next Evenstar.” Aileen took another hard swallow, and the knight saw bitter tears stinging her honey brown eyes. “Turns out I’m not even remotely involved in the conversation of succession, nor is any hypothetical child of ours.”

Brienne's big blue eyes shone with sympathy and pity as a familiar tale was read to her again, one she had mostly heard behind closed doors and once when one of his paramours broke down in the hallway outside Brienne's childhood chambers after Selwyn cast her out.

She slowly sat down next to her. The torch light was flickering across her pale face and reflected in her tears. “Aileen did… did you not know… I mean my father’s reputation with women…”

“Did I know that this was a pattern? I did, but I thought what we had was different. I thought… I thought he loved me.”

_They all think that. But there's only one woman the Evenstar ever loved and her ashes are scattered across Tarth and her soul is resting amongst the stars._

“I’m sorry you’re hurt,” Brienne said, her voice as soft as a cloud. “But at least now you can move on, you aren’t caught in a love that will never go anywhere.”

“It’s not fair,” she muttered.

“I know. And I’m sorry my father disappointed you.”

“I’m not talking about him,” she shot back rather nastily. “I’m talking about how you get to rule Tarth when you haven’t even been there the last eight years. You get to be the heir to the sapphire isle when you don’t even want it.”

“That’s not true,” the knight said, hurt. “I’m not counting the days until I spread my father’s ashes but I want to be a good Evenstar for our island and a good Lady for my house.”

“You still left.”

“I left to fight for my king,” Brienne said sharply, surprising even herself that after all this time when it came to Renly she still had an infallible command in her tone. “As did every other soldier and knight on Tarth. After he died I had an oath to fulfill and a promise to keep. I wasn’t about to abandon my honor.”

Aileen scoffed, rolling her eyes as she took another long heavy drink. Brienne eyed the horn wearily.

“Don't you think you’ve had enough?”

“I do not, _My Lady_.” Aileen’s honey brown eyes searched over her face, not taking them away from Brienne eyes as she took another swallow of mare's milk. “You know my mother worked as a kitchen wench in different castles for years. Mistwood, Nightsong, Bronzegate then finally Evenfall... She once said you were the only one, out of all those highborn Lords and Ladies, out of all those castles, that ASKED her to make you something when you were hungry, and you always made sure to say ‘please’. Some were polite, Selwyn included, but none more so than you. You were the kindest girl she ever served.”

Brienne wasn’t sure where this was going but she played along. “I remember your mother, she was a very decent woman. I’m sorry that you lost her.”

“Mmm.” Another drink and then she looked right into Briennes eyes. A cruelty that the knight knew was about to cut deep was written plain as day on her comely face. “She also said that ‘if you treated your Lord Husband half as good as you treated her, he would be the luckiest man alive. It was just such a pity that she’s as ugly as a helm full of sin and won’t ever marry’.” She sneered at the tall knight, his words slurred to something almost unrecognizable. “My mother was wrong on one front though; a man did want you. Two at that, a northern barbarian who fucked you pregnant and a Dothraki savage… congratulations are in order, I suppose.”

It wasn’t the insult that cut her, not really. The words themselves barely touched her, she had after all been called far worse. When they first met the man she grew to love had spat barbs at her that to this day she bristled at.

‘Ugly as a helm full of sin’ wasn’t even the most creative or cruel thing Brienne had ever been called, especially when it was mixed with a backhanded compliment.  The comments about Raeko and her assault though… That felt like she was being run though with a valyrian steel sword while her memories started to read the painful past out loud but she forced herself to silence it.

But what cut the deepest, what stung the most was the fact that Amillia Tanner, one of Evenfalls cooks, who always added a little extra cinnamon into her baked apples because she knew how much Brienne liked the sweetness and always had a smile for the Evenstars daughter, had been the one to say it.

Brienne slowly stood up from the ground, keeping her expression as blank as she could. Not even a shadow of hurt was on her homely face, she would not give her that satisfaction.

Without sparing her a glance Brienne walked away from the drunk woman.

 _Mothers and mates of lions do not walk away from insults_ , a growling voice that she ignored told her as she left the horse lords feast and began the long walk back to her chambers.

_But I do._

Once inside the Redkeep she headed back to her apartment but halfway to it she decided for the first time in her life that she was rather sick of silences and instead turned back around and made her way to Jaime’s meager chambers.

Jaehaerys and Dustmagget were there as per usual and she greeted them in kind and knocked on his door. Jaime opened the door and his confused expression softened into a smile when he saw her.

“May I come in?” she asked, being answered with an enthusiastic ‘of course’.

“Is everything alright?” He closed the door behind her. “I thought you were supping with your father tonight?”

“I’m fine and I am, I was. I just…”

Why HAD she come here?

“Aileen and I got into a… quarrel,” Brienne said, the nicest possible way to explain her father’s paramour insulting her. “I wanted to close the celebration out with a friendly face I suppose.”

Jaime cocked his head to the side. “Celebration?”

“The evenstar.”

“...Is it your father’s name day?”

Brienne couldn’t help the soft smile. “No. The star.” She walked over to his small dirty window and pushed it open, looking up at the sky and searching for the bright blue fireball in the sky.

“You can’t see it from here,” she muttered to herself before she turned to him. “You up for a walk?”

The two of them with his Unsullied shadows made the long walk from Jaime’s chambers to the roof of the northernmost tower. Off in the distance she could see the faint flickering of the torches from the Dothraki celebrations looking no more than candles in the wind.

Brienne looked up and saw the bright blue star almost at once, nestled between the tip of the great hunter’s arrow and the crones lantern.

“There,” she said pointing to the star, her titles namesake. “That’s the evenstar, the _actual_ star.”

Jaime looked up and his eyes followed where she was pointing. The bright blue and silver light reflected in his wide green eyes as he took in the gorgeous sight of the night sky. “It’s beautiful,” he breathed.

Brienne smiled as her blue eyes looked over the night sky. “Every year on Tarth the first night it appears there’s a huge feast. There’s food and wine and song, there’s a ceremony involving the lord of Tarth… the whole isle celebrates it.” Her rare smile fell and replaced by a well known frown. “I haven’t been to one in years…”

She saw Jaime bow his head and when he picked it back up again a look of guilt had overtaken him. “Jaime? Jaime what is it?”

He gnawed at his lip and her heart began racing. The familiar feeling of dread, the same kind she felt when she awoke to find him and all his stuff gone, settled deep in her chest.

“Look at me,” she pleaded. “Please.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“You'll hate me.”

“I won’t.”

A sad smile grew on his handsome face. “If you don’t then you should…”

Brienne waited patiently for Jaime to take a deep breath and finally speak. “Me, Stark and Tyrion, we’ve… the three of us have been working on a way to get you out of Kingslanding, you and Sansa both, I knew you wouldn’t go without her. Then after we got you away Stark would release you from your vow and you could go back to Tarth, you and the baby both.”

“Why would I hate you for that? And why didn’t you tell me, I could have helped.”

“We didn’t tell you because… because we’d knew you’d object to the way we were going about it.”

“And what way would that be?” she asked suspiciously.

“Bronn has… graciously… agreed to…to marry Lady Stark.”

“Are you MAD?!” She was sure her voice carried out over the vast half-burnt city. “She’s a child, Jaime!”

“She’s twenty five years old, married twice, widowed once, and was forced to grow up far quicker than someone had a right too. Besides it’s her duty-.”

“It’s her duty to what?” She took a step towards Jaime, fury shining in her eyes but he didn’t move back. “To marry a man twice her age, an up-jumped sell sword at that who only sees her as a lordship? Who won’t be faithful to their marriage bed?”

“She’s the Lady of the North, he’s Lord of the Reach-.”

“He is only lord of the reach because he blackmailed you and your brother after agreeing to murder you!”

Brienne shuddered at the memory when Jaime came back to their chambers, blood on his hands and a wary weary look in his eyes.

“She tried to murder me,” was all he said when Brienne asked what happened, collapsing onto his chair in front of the fire. Brienne didn’t need to ask who ‘she’ was.  “Bronn, the crossbow that Tyrion used on our father… my sister hates me, Brienne, she… she tried to kill me.”

The pain in his green eyes, wet with tears was almost more than she could stand and it had taken every ounce of restraint from riding hard down to Kings Landing and running Cersei through with Oathkeeper.

“It’s a perfectly normal match.”

His voice brought her out of her memories. When she looked at him he lowered his voice. “Which is what my brother will sell to the Dragon Queen so she won’t be suspicious.”

“Queen Daenerys doesn’t trust her own counsels shadows, it won’t matter what Tyrion sells her,” she spat back.

“Perhaps but she can’t object to the Lady of Highgarden being AT Highgarden, or her sworn sword. I just want you out of Kingslanding, Brienne,” he added softly.

“I understand that but I don’t want Sansa to marry a man like Bronn just to get me out of here, We’ll figure it out. Call it off, Jaime,” she begged.

“No,” he said flatly. “Bronn’s already agreed to the match, he’s going to be here next week.”

“Don’t do this to that girl, she’s been through enough.”

“I don’t care what she’s been through.”

“Jaime, that’s enough!” Brienne barked sharply but her voice didn’t budge him an inch.

“I don’t give two shits about the Stark girl or anyone else,” he spat and Brienne swallowed hard. The way he spoke, the cold look in his eye, it reminded her far too much of the way he spoke about what he did for Cersei, when he listed off the things he thought made him a hateful man… “I don’t care about anything but you and our baby,” he continued. “If I have to marry off the wolf pup to the Mountains corpse to keep you two safe I will. I pushed a boy out of a window to keep Cersei and my children with her safe, I killed my own cousin to get back to her. You really think I won’t propose marrying Sansa off to someone to get you out of harms way? I will kill every man, woman and child in Kingslanding if it keeps the two of you safe, I will push a hundred boys out of a window for you two, I’ll murder my own brother-.”

“Jaime stop!”

Brienne took a step back from the man she loved, a fear she never felt before when she was with him gripping her chest. He looked every bit the murderous roaring lion on his sigil, as if he really might commit those crimes for her, for their babe. But he wouldn’t do that, he wouldn’t turn back to the man he was… right?

When he saw the fear and something akin to disgust in her eyes the malice and anger faded from his face, his emerald eyes softened.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Her voice shook slightly, enough that it made Jaime flinch at the fact his words had actually scared her. She spoke in a whisper, soft and gentle, the antisis of everything Cersei was. “Threatening to cripple a child, murder an entire city, your own brother, that isn’t love, it’s… obsession. And I don’t want it.”

“Cersei did,” he muttered, bowing his head, shame burning bright in his eyes.

Brienne took a deep breath, waiting for her heart to slow before she went back over to him, taking his face in her hands and lifting it until he was looking at her. “I’m not Cersei. I don’t want you to hurt people just to keep me safe, I don’t want you to be the person you thought you were to protect me.”

“But I am that person.”

“You’re not.” She spoke as stern as she dared too. “You aren’t, Jaime, you’re a good man, the best I’ve ever known. You understand me?”

Jaime swallowed hard and reached up, laying a calloused hand on her unbandaged cheek. She didn’t pull away but rather slowly lifted her hand and put it over top of his.

“I know you think I’m a good man…”

“Jaime-,” she sighed, starting to pull away from him but his handless arm wrapped around her waist and held her there. Her body tensed while flashes of Raeko holding her against her chamber walls danced before her eyes but she willed it away.

The chill of the wind in the high roofless tower coupled with the warmth of the lion was a pleasant and much needed distraction from her own thoughts. He kept her grounded, as grounded as she could be in any case.

“Just listen to me, Brienne. Please?”

She nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off him.  Brienne watched as he took a deep breath. “Cersei and you… you’re the same. You’re different sides of the same coin.”

At this Brienne dropped her hand and stepped back, hurt written as plain as day on her face. That had cut deeper than any insult he threw at her when they first met.

“It’s true.” There was no malice or cruelty in his voice, just pleading, desperate for her to listen to him. So she did, albeit guarded.  “My sister… she thought my honor was worthless, that she thought I was just like her, hateful and cruel.

“And you think I’m the same as her,” she said, trying to hide the bitterness from her words.

“In opposite ways, yes. She only thought I was just like her, but you think I’m just like you.”

“I don’t-.”

“You promised to listen.”

Brienne pursed her lips but nevertheless kept her word and didn’t say another word.

“You said the night I left I’m ‘better than Cersei’. You act like she made all my choices and I was some poor helpless man who can’t defend myself from her. You act like she’s the only reason I acted dishonorably, she’s the only reason I’m not the perfect honorable white knight like you are, like you think I am.”

She wanted to argue, the stubbornness in her wanting to fight back, tell him that he was wrong, that she didn’t think he was helpless in any circumstance.

But she didn’t.

Because, she reflected sadly, he was right. Cersei thought her brother was just like her and Brienne thought he was just like her… how was there a difference between the lioness queen and the lady knight?

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way. You’re not helpless, Jaime but you ARE a good man. I won’t ever not think that, no matter what you think of yourself. You pushed a boy out a window to save your children and your sister. You killed your cousin to escape captivity. You took Riverrun without bloodshed for me, you lost your hand defending your captors honor, you armored and armed me to keep your oath to a dead woman…It doesn’t what you would have done but what you do in the end and why.”

Tears rose to his eyes that she pretended she couldn’t see. The words he spoke were a harsh whisper, biting back more tears as if he never seemed to realize the truth she was speaking. “But I’ve done terrible things too. A good act doesn’t wash out the bad, Brienne.”

“Nor the bad the good.”

The corners of his lips flicked slightly upwards. “You are the most stubborn wench I’ve ever met in my life. But I think you… you and I,” he corrected with a shaking breath. “Need to understand that I’m not all lion, but I’m not all lamb either. I’m Jaime. Just Jaime.”

Brienne gave him a curt nod. “Just Jaime,” she agreed.

Emeralds looked deep into sapphires, soft blue reflecting a lion and the star dotted sky behind him in their depths. His arm was still wrapped around her waist and his hand still rested against her un-maimed cheek.

She saw his jaw fall slightly and his handsome eyes went wide.

“What?”

“Your eyes… in the moonlight… they’re astounding.” For once she did not blush, but rather stayed perfectly still as he pulled her closer to him. “They’re always breathtaking but tonight with the heavens reflected in them... they’re truly astonishing, Brienne.”

“You’re too kind, Ser,” she answered in a breathy whisper she saved only for his ears.

“How can it be a kindness when I only speak truth, My Lady?”

The drums and shouts of the Dothraki feast, the chirping of crickets, the sounds and noises of the city and castle all faded away to nothing. There was nothing to hear but each other’s breathing, there was nothing to see but each other and the night sky wrapped around them like a warm blanket and the bright star shining down upon the two knights.

Then, without taking a breath or a moment to even blink, Jaime leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

She hesitated for a second before she melted into the kiss. Soft and warm and gentle while the wintery night winds laid their own kisses against their skin. It was a world of difference from her first kiss with the one handed lion, bumping teeth and moving out of sync with his well practiced lips at first but now her plump lips danced with his like two well rehearsed players.

He smelled like horses and leather and steel and sweat what she could only describe in a cliche as ‘Jaime’. His tongue tasted hers, gently gliding and moving against one another and his beard scratched her soft skin. Jaime pulled her against him as much as her swollen stomach would allow him and his hand moved from her cheek to her soft straw colored hair, gently running his calloused fingers through the pale blonde locks.

Too soon, far too soon, he pulled his lips away from her swollen ones but just as quick he was pressing them against her jaw, leaving soft wet spots as he moved his gentle kisses behind her ear. Brienne moaned softly as his lips and tongue worshipped at the spot that Jaime found quite early on in their relationship made her heart race and stirred something inside her that her septa told her proper highborn ladies such as Brienne weren’t ever supposed to talk about.

She craned her neck to the side and looked up at the night sky, opening her eyes up to the heavens so that he could have room to kiss and suck and nip. In the distance a horse whinnied, and then she heard it. The foreign words in harsh guttural tongues, then laughter.

She knew what was happening even before started.

_No… no no no no no._

Brienne heard **him** then, shouting commands that she didn’t understand, sneering foreign insults… Any stirring, heart fluttering feelings Jaime was making her feel disappeared, replaced by a heavy dread.

 _Please_ _no. Stay here. Stay with Jaime. Don’t ruin this, not now._

The night sky started to fade away and her chambers slowly came into focus and Raeko was in front of her and HIS lips were kissing her long neck, and HIS hand was slowly moving down her broad stiff shoulders, down her back and settled on her waist.

Brienne whimpered, pushing the man kissing her away hard. She couldn’t breathe. The breath seemed caught in her throat and there was nothing she could do but stand frozen first in her chambers and then, slowly, she found herself back on the roof with the night sky above her and the evenstar shining brightly down on its future namesake and Jaime Lannister staring at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. He was saying something but the ringing in her ears was too loud for her to make out what he was saying.

She felt a wetness slide down her cheeks and she reached up to wipe them away and she let out a shuddering breath as the winds blew cool against her flushed skin.

“I’m sorry,” she said, touching her lips where the taste of him still lingered.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked and she immediately shook her head.

“No, you-... it wasn’t you, Jaime, I swear it.”  

Brienne saw the realization dawn on his face and she turned away, not wanting to see the damned pity.

“I’m sorry I ruined this,” she told him as sincerely as she could manage.

“You didn’t ruin anything, My Lady.” Brienne heard his footsteps approach her but she still didn’t look at him. Not until he put a finger under his chin and lifted her eyes to his and tears flooded her eyes. What she expected to see was pity but what she found was nothing but a gentleness and kindness she never experienced before. Not before him, not before ‘the Kingslayer’.

He gifted her a soft smile as warm as the western sun. “Besides,” he told her. “I really don’t think it’ll be fair to Jaehaerys and Dustmagget if left them standing out there for the next five minutes or so.”

“Five minutes?” A grin of its own mind winked at him. “So either you’re either incredibly cocky or incredibly self-deprecating.”

Jaime grinned back. “Definitely the first, as you’re so very well aware.”

She laughed, an outrageously loud bray that she had been mocked for her entire life but it always brought a smile to Jaime’s lips. “You’re pathetic!”

“So pathetic.” His grin grew even wider. “Self obsessed, just stop talking about yourself…” Jaime reaches out and rubbed her arm, “are you okay?”

She nodded and smiled, wrapping her arms around her rounded stomach to protect it from the cold. “I’m okay.”

“Good.”

He offered her his arm that she took without hesitation and the two of them made their way back inside the castle, the sounds of the Dothraki feast shut out completely.

 

Please Review!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow two chapters in a row with Braime fluff and nothing too awful happening to Brienne or Jaime. I’m getting soft on y’all. Might have to change things up here pretty quick :-)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So as y’all can see I finally got an end chapter number which may vary by one or two chapters depending on if I combine or move things around but the endgame is planned and in sight! Yay me!

“You promised me a wolf.”

“I‘m sorry.”

“I came all the way up from Highgarden with the promise that I’d be taking a wolf bitch back home and now; no wolf bitch.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“You’re gonna be even sorrier when I shove my sword up your ass.”

Jaime didn’t even blink at the threat the man sitting beside him threw so casually. 

Bronn was in Jaimes chambers nursing a sour red wine, looking just as grizzled, just as hard, just as dirty as ever. His favored plain brown leather jerkin was in need of a mend and his greasy black hair was in need of a wash. The dirk in his hands had a simple black leather hilt and the sword at his waist was a small sharp thing with a rusted grip.

Apparently the new Lord of Highgarden had yet to spend any of his newfound fortune on personal wear. Although, to Jaime’s surprise, he had heard rumors that Highgarden and the Reach itself was now better protected them it had been under the Tyrells. Plus Bronn had taken to punishing criminals not but sending them to the Wall or the dungeons but to the fields to help till and plow, and that the small folk had actually liked that idea if for no other reason then it had given them desperately needed help.

He was, to everyone’s surprise, most of all Jaime, adapting fairly well to ruling over the bread basket of Westeros.

Jaime sighed as he watched his one time friend cross his arms over his chest and narrow his pale green eyes at the graying lion. 

“You wrote me saying you needed me to marry the Stark girl to get your tall bloody blonde blighter out of here,” Bronn reminded him. “I come here, dressed in me best mind you, and instead I get told ‘oh no, we don’t need you anymore’. I thought lying to a High Lord was an offense punishable by death.”

“She had a change of heart.” Jaime reached over and poured himself a glass of wine. “She rules the North in all but name, she’s allowed to do that.”

“The only reason she would have a change of heart is if you got your slice of blonde minge outta here.” Jaime’s fist tightened around his cup. “Seeing as how I saw the Tarth bitch just this morning, I don’t see how-.”

“Do you remember what I did to the last ruler of Highgarden?” Jaime spoke so sharp it would have made valerian steel seem duller than a rusted tourney blade. “Insult her again, and I’ll be happy to leave the Reach without a liege lord once more.” He took a sip of the wine to calm his nerves. “Brienne talked her out of it. She said she’ll find a way out of Kingslanding on her own and begged me not to let it go through, what was I supposed to do?”

“You were supposed to keep your promise about me becoming the next King in the North.”

“You‘re the Lord Paramount of the Reach, you command and lead the second wealthiest House in Westeros!” he cried. “Eventually you have to stop on the ladder even if there is a rung or two left.”

“I was promised the North and a nice little wolf with red fur to warm my bed,” said Bronn.”

Jamie snorted into his cup of sour wine. “‘Nice little and warm’ are the last words you’d use to describe Sansa Stark. Besides the North’s too cold, you don’t want to be up there during the winter.”

The sell-sword turned knight turned high lord sighed, resigned to his fate. “No I suppose not. I hate the bloody cold anyway…” He pursed his chapped lips. “Tarth’s rather warm though innit?”

Jaimes goblet was halfway to his mouth when he froze and blinked, setting it back down again. “Excuse me?”

“Tarth. Big island out there in the middle of the ocean, the tall blonde you’re so fond of is gonna rule it when her father croaks. They call it the… what the fuck was it? The sapphic isle?”

“The  _ sapphire  _ isle,” Jaime corrected, any amusement gone from his voice. He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly why Bronn had brought up the island out in the narrow sea...

“Oh. Well there goes half my reasonings for wanting to be Lord of Tarth.”

“Lord of Tarth? Why would you ever hold the title of Evenstar?”

“Isn’t that what the guy gets to be called when they marry the Lord of Tarths daughter?”

“No.”

He would rather be executed by dragon fire and then be resurrected every day only to be burned again then have Bronn marry Brienne. Even if the match wasn’t only to spite and get revenge on Jaime, he would be dead before he saw her on the sell swords arm.

Brienne may not have deserved Jaime but there was one thing he could say for himself and it was that he was more honorable than Bronn. Then again you would be hard pressed to find a rat in the dungeons with less honor than the Lord of the Reach so that wasn’t exactly a glowing accommodation but even still; Jaime would be faithful to his Lady Knight, he’d respect her, he would be kind to her and loving and decent. He would give her the world and the sun and moon and all the stars in the sky and all the gold in Casterly Rock and be he would realize she deserved more than even that. 

Bronn cocked an eyebrow at his direction, a challenge issued if there ever was one. “No no, I’m pretty sure if I marry her I get to be Lord of Tarth.”

“You won’t ever marry her.” Jaime spoke as plainly as he could; not speaking opinions but facts. “She isn’t even your type, you don’t even like her.”

“What’s not to like?” Bronn said with a shrug. “Great big hips, legs that go on for days, nice full lips ripe for kissing amongst other things. Not to mention have you seen those eyes of hers?”

“Don’t talk about her eyes.”

A growling lion baring fangs and claws came to life inside Jaime that had laid dormant since Winterfell when he saw the way that ginger wildling looked at his Knight.  She wasn’t Tormunds, she wasn’t Bronns, she was HIS, and the lion would make damn sure this scoundrel was well aware of that.

“Touchy subject?” He bit the end of the dagger as if in deep thought. “Well I suppose I could talk about how tight her cunt must be after only having your little pecker in it. I’d have to wait a few weeks or so after she gives birth to your bastard to test it out of course but don’t worry.” Bronn reached over and slapped him hard on the shoulder. “I’ll be sure to give your son a proper job mucking out the stables after she gives me my own heir.”

The lion pounced. 

Jaime leapt up from his chair and just and threw his punch as hard as he could, but even after five years he still wasn’t as fast with his left as he had been with his right and Bronn caught it easily. Jaime lifted his right arm in an attempt to block the blow he knew was coming but he couldn’t reach up in time and the sell-swords fist slammed against his jaw sending him crashing to the ground. 

“Told ya you couldn’t do it on your best day,” Bronn said rather matter-of-factly, offering him the same hand he used to hit him.

Jaime huffed out a breath and glared at him but nevertheless took his hand and allowed the Lord of the Reach to help him to his feet.

“If I had my right hand...” Jaime grumbled as he sat back down, casting a mean look at the sell-sword.

“Plan on growing it back?” He took a heavy drink of his wine and sighed when he swallowed. “I wanted the North.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jaime, although he sounded  a lot less apologetic now that he had been punched in the jaw. “Apart from letting you marry the woman I love if there’s something I could do to make it up to you I will.”

“Oh it’s love now innit? I just thought you wanted to fuck her.” Bronn shrugged. “I mean hells I’d fuck her, and I’d even leave a candle or two burning, but I’m an old greasy cunt who doesn’t have a lot of options.”

“Apart from two women you have every option in the world.”

“Yeah but I really wanted the wolf… think I could have the dragon as a consolation prize?”

“... The dragon? She’d burn you alive. Literally and figuratively. Besides she likes them small and sullen.”

“Oh I’ll be as sullen as the queen wants me to be. As for being small, well, can’t do anything about my gift.”

Jaime chuckled at that and poured him another drink.

“If it was up to me you and the Stark girl would already be on your way to Highgarden,” he admitted. “But-.”

“But the noble gallant Ser Brienne of Tarth talked her golden knight out of marrying the fair maiden off to the unfaithful cutthroat, yeah yeah, I’m sure it’ll make a great song.” Jaime watched as Bronn drained the last of his wine and stood up with a groan, stretching his arms to the sky. “Doesn’t mean I forgive you any. Did the Queen burn down all the brothels?”

“Most of them. Chataya's is still open I believe.”

“Alayaya make it?”

“Yes but half her face is half melted off.” 

Bronn clicked his tongue and shook his head in disgust. “Burning all the whores and brothels… it should be a bloody crime.”

With that Bronn took his farewell, leaving the maimed lion alone with his thoughts. It had been a week since the kiss shared on the rooftop ended far too abruptly for Jaime’s liking, where his lips pressed against Brienne for what felt like the first time in an eternity. The taste was one he knew well; the spiced cider she preferred over wine, even before her pregnancy, and the wintermint leaves she liked to chew on that left her breath cool and minty and crisp.

Later that night he recalled what Cersei’s kisses had tasted like; tangy and exotic, like lemons and oranges and all the foreign fruits from the far corner of the world dancing together, and his sisters scent was all expensive and priceless perfumes and oils that clouded his mind whenever he inhaled where as Brienne… she smelled familiar. Her scent was one of training yards and freshly forged steel and leather and sweat and armor and warm sunshine and sapphire colored oceans and all the things Jaime loved and adored and missed whenever he was away from it. 

Jaime would have taken her right there on the rooftop if she had let him. Her new curvy body underneath him rising up to meet his thrusts, her deep voice crying out his name as he nipped and kissed and licked at that glorious slit between her legs, her short nails gently running through his shaggy hair in the afterglow of their time together while the eyes that the Maid Herself would be envious of looked at him like he was her entire world and the winter air were wrapping them in its own sharp embrace.

But she put an end to it before they could go that far. Her nightmares took flesh when he kissed her and his face twisted and morphed into Raeko’s and she pushed him away, nearly making him stumble over the edge. She needlessly apologized afterwards and he accepted before she even opened her mouth but since then there had been little and less contact between them. 

But even still; they were spending more and more time together, smiling, talking, laughing, falling back into that comfortable familiarity they had in Winterfell. Breakfast together every morning, supper every evening, every day spent alongside her and her charge, father and squire helping with the rebuild of the new Redkeep. She had, grudgingly and finally, accepted that her new body didn’t allow her as much freedom as she had prior. 

Watching her suffer with the shortness of breath coupled with the vertigo and crippling headaches was painful for Jaime and he wished more than anything for the days to tick by faster not only so they could meet their daughter but so Brienne would be out of misery.

Brienne was now 23 weeks pregnant. Just shy of six months, which meant only three months to go and only three months to figure out a way to get her and the baby out of Kingslanding less Daenerys decided to decorate the throne room with a lion cub pelt. But Jaime would worry about that another night. 

Tonight, he had a gift to give. Two in fact.

Selwyn came to his room later that evening after he had supper with Brienne, the head of the guard and possible future son in law at his side, and carrying a package wrapped in blood red and black parchment paper under his arm.

Today the Evenstar wore a rose colored jerkin with a yellow sun embroidered on the chest and a dark blue wool shirt underneath and Jaime once again found himself wondering why Brienne was so reluctant to wear the colors of her House much less her sigil.

“It’s here?” Jaime asked with a beaming grin, taking the package from him without an answer.

“It is. Wrapped in Targaryan colors as requested,” Selwyn said with a bit of disgust.

“Trust me I hate it as much as you do,” Jaime agreed as he tore off the paper to reveal crimson velvet with a golden lion stitched on it concealing something within its soft folds. “But I didn’t trust the Queen enough not to burn anything coming into the city bearing Lannister colors on sight.”

“Even these?”

“I didn’t want to take a chance.”

Selwyn nodded in understanding. His blue eyes searched over Jaime’s, his grim face actually sharing a smile for once at the Kingslayers excited expression. When Jaime asked why he wore the grin Selwyn told him that he reminded him of a young Selwyn.

“I had a necklace made for my Reena once, the Selmy wheat stalks cast in gold. I wore that same face you do now when it finally came, I was so excited to give it to her.”

“Your wife was a Selmy?”

He nodded. “Barristons cousin. She hailed from the main branch though, she was Lord Edrichs daughter.”

Jaime chuckled. “Brienne is related to Barristan the Bold… of course she is. No wonder she’s a true knight.”

Selwyn modded, his smile softening. “That she is, Lannister.” He pursed his full lips. “Have you ever heard of Ser Duncan the Tall?”

“Every knight in the world has heard of Ser Duncan the Tall, he’s one of the most famous member of the Kingsguard. He’s one of the most honorable knights in legends, the most heroic, the most gallant...” Jaime said with almost fanciful admiration that for some reason made Selwyn chuckle. “Why?”

Selwyn pursed his lips for a moment, curious, his eyes flickering between Jaime and Hayden. “Did you know Ser Duncan and the Princess Daella Targaryan had a daughter?” Jaime shook his head. “They had a small quiet keep out on Morne and the princess died in childbirth, after that Duncan joined the Kingsguard. The daughter, Visenya Targaryen, was raised as a ward in the Red Keep so she could be close to her father and then she went on to marry Lord Edwyn of Tarth, my grandfather.”

It took Jaime and Hayden admittedly a moment to understand exactly what was meant by the telling of the Tarth family history and both seemed to grasp what they believed to be the most important point of the story to be at the same time. 

“Brienne’s Duncan’s great granddaughter,” Jaime breathed, emerald eyes going wide the same time, “she’s a Targaryan,” was gasped by Hayden.

Again their voices mingled as they both threw out question after statement.

“Does she have a claimant to the throne?” the guard asked.

“Does she know she’s his descendent?” Jaime asked failing to keep the childlike excitement off his tongue. “Wait his shield… Duncan’s shield they never found it, do you have it? Did Brienne ever use it? Did she FIGHT with it?!”

“Could she ride the dragon?”

“Oh Gods my daughter…. my daughter will have Duncan the Talls blood in her veins… I need to write that in the book…” 

“My Lord, could Brienne have a claimant to the throne?”

Selwyn’s deep blue eyes were calm and knowing as he looked from the hungry expression on Ser Hayden’s handsome face to the excited giddiness worn by Ser Jaime.

Before Jaime could lament on the fact he had actually fought with Ser Duncan’s great granddaughter, and nearly won, his door slammed open and in stormed Jon Snow of all people, with rage and worry simmering in his dark colored eyes, his hand grasping the jolt of Longclaw.

“Lord Snow,” Jaime greeted rather discourteously, bending into a flowery low bow designed to mock rather than honor. There was no love lost between the lion and the bastard wolf. Jon knew exactly what Daenerys was, he knew it better than anyone, just like Jaime knew better than anyone what Cersei was. Jon knew what Daenerys was, and did nothing as hundreds of thousands of men, women and children burned alive. 

Jaime would never forgive him for that.

“How may House Lannister serve you this fine evening?”

“I should run you through, Kingslayer,” Jon snarled in the thick accent of the North and Jaime lifted a golden brow at the threat. “Are you so quick to hasten your own death? No never mind that, I don’t care about your life, but you put Sansa in danger.”

“How on earth did I do that?”

“The marriage to the cutthroat? To Lord Bronn?”

Jaime blinked. He ordered Tyrion and Sansa both under threat of death not to mention it to Jon or any of the other Queens advisers. “How do you know about m?”

“The new Lord of the Reach got drunk in a brothel, talked about he came all this way and that ‘the fucking one handed lion cheated him out of a wolf. Some Unsullied overhead and figured out what he was talking about then went and told the Queen.”

His chest tightened and his heart pounded hard against his ribs but after a moment of panic he forced himself to take a deep breath. Maybe she hadn’t figured out why he had made the arrangement, not to mention was going to find out eventually anyway... Of course they would have spread the story that it was made by Sansa and Bronn and left Jaime’s name out of it but it was out there now, and he had to stay a step ahead of the fire and blood that would certainly drown him and his cub  if he didn’t.

“It’s a perfectly normal match,” Jaime argued, using the same talking point they planned to use on the Queen. “The Lady of the North and the Lord of the Reach have wedded and bedded together for thousands of years. This would be an ordinary union during any other reign, and if she can’t comprehend that, if she sees plots and schemes in every shadow that the Highlords cast, perhaps she shouldn’t be queen because the great lord’s and ladies cast many shadows, Jon Snow. If she becomes paranoid at the sight of all of them, then eventually one of those shadows will turn on her.”

There was a heavy fearful silence that fell over the group. All the men held their breath, waiting for Jaime’s lips to fall from his face or his tongue to be ripped out or for Drogon to come crashing in singing his song of death, or SOMETHING.

Jaime knew the silence well. He and the rest of the castle used it often when someone grew bold enough to speak against Aerys and right now, forced to use it again, it grated at his nerves and angered him. He was done speaking in whispers, he was sick of the frightened silences that came from a Targaryan rule.

Jon broke it first. 

“That’s treason,” he warned Jaime, as fearful as he was angry.

“Has House Lannister bent the knee? Casterly Rock is mine, by right, since Tommen sent me away from the kingsguard and as far as I’m aware I’ve never once bowed to that murderous lizard.” 

“The walls have ears, you idiot!” hissed Jon.

“Then let them listen!” Jaime roared. “You made this fear possible! You helped put a woman who burns men, women and children alive on the throne! You deal with the fallout, and if you don’t have the gall for it, I am more than happy to live up to my nickname.”

“Careful, Lannister,” Selwyn cautioned, not out of love for their queen but for the fire lighting up in the bastard wolves eyes.

“You will not threaten our Queen again,” the wolf growled. “This is treason.”

Jaime looked at him a moment, watching, waiting, before he spoke as plain as day. “You no longer love her. You fear her.”

“Watch yourself, Kingslayer!”

“You wanna know how I know you don’t love her anymore?” he asked, ignoring the command Jon had barked. Jaime took a bold step forward considering he was armed with only his good looks and Jon had a valyrian steel sword. He stared down at the curly haired former King in the North. “If someone told me they planned to stab Brienne in the back a sword would be jammed down their gullet before they could finish their sentence. I wouldn’t meet their threats with empty words.” He looked directly in his yes that, as hard as he tried to hide it, screamed that he knew Jaime was telling the truth. “You know what’s best for this country, Snow.  If you don’t do something about it then eventually me or someone far crueler than me will get that fire loving murderer off the throne just like I got rid of her father. Now; if you excuse me…”

Without waiting for an answer or response from any of the three men, Jaime grabbed the velvet wrapped package and walked out of the room, caring only about what the look on his Lady Knights face would be when she saw his gifts.

However; had he been less focused on her and more on the fallout from his heated words, he would have realized the dire and terrifying situation he just placed Brienne, himself and, more worriedly, their cub in. A predicament that, try as they might, there was a very strong chance they would not make it out alive.

 

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	22. Chapter 22

“You should have told me, My Lady.” 

“I didn’t because I knew you’d put a stop to it, which is exactly what you did.”

“I stoped it because you shouldn’t marry someone just to try to save me. Especially a cut-throat like Bronn.”

The two women sat in Sansas chambers after Brienne took her supper with Jaime. The tall wolf was nursing a cup of hot mulled wine while Brienne slowly sipped on milk sweetened with honey beside the fireplace and were discussing the happenings of this past week.

The apartment wasn’t the same one Sansa had when she lived there under Joffrey's reign, Daenerys gifted that to Jon, but it was still worthy of her station. There was a white bear skin rug on the ground, a soft feather bed with grey and white curtains draped from the canopy, a small fireplace and long windows peering out over what would have been a pleasant view of the once sprawling city but now just showed ash and mud all the way to the city walls, a deliberate choice, Brienne guessed, to showcase Daenerys’ power.

Not that any of them needed reminding. Drogons song was a constant headache for all of them and even now if you walked outside the air was choked with ash and soot, and black smoke still rose from some of the structures she destroyed.

Brienne hated it. It wasn’t just everything happening now but even when she first came to Kingslanding what felt like a lifetime ago she hated the city. It was too crowded, too noisy, too everything, and it stunk of dead fish and rotten breath and whores that wore too much cheap perfume. She had gone swimming in Blackwater Bay once but the waters were murky and the smell of sulfur almost overwhelmed her and when she dared to dive beneath the surface she found a corpse with stringy bits of flesh still clinging to it, it’s dress in tatters and the chain wrapped around its arms and legs nearly rusted through. When she told the Citywatch they just laughed and said that the fish needed things to eat too and it wasn’t until she informed Jaime who ordered the removal of the body less they face Joffrey’s wrath, although more than like the king would have had the decaying corpse decorate the throne room, did the guards pull the poor girl from the water.

Needless to say she didn’t go into Blackwater Bay again. 

But she found herself yearning for what it was before Daenerys came to Westeros. At least before on the Street of Flour the fresh baked bread overpowered the foul stench of the rest of the city and watching the Blacksmiths create virgin swords and new armor on the Street of Steel was always a welcome distraction. But Drogon burnt down all the baker shops and the Street of Steels forges were destroyed in an explosion of Wildfire hidden from the days of Aerys so now there was nothing but fire and ash. Fire and death. 

Fire and blood.

“He’s the Lord of Highgarden,” Sansa argued albeit half-heartily. “I’m the eldest daughter of Ned Stark, it was a perfectly fine match.”

“You’re more than that, My Lady. You know you are. And no, it wasn’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have made it solely with the intention of getting me out of the capital.” 

“It was the first plan Ser Jaime came up with that made sense,” Sansa told her. “It would have worked.”

“What if it didn’t? What if the Queen didn’t allow you to disappear with Bronn back to Highgarden. You’d be stuck in an unfaithful marriage with a cut-throat and you’d be a hostage still.” Brienne set the glass down. “We will find a way out of here. All of us.  Maybe Jon could speak to the Queen-.”

“I’ve already suggested that. He won’t, he’s either fearful or in love or both. He’s convinced she’s trying to do better and that she won’t hurt me.”

Brienne took a sip of her milk. She cringed at its sweetness. “Love makes people do hurtful things.”

“Perhaps. Either way he won’t help us.” Sansa looked up at Brienne, looking lost for the first time since Brienne had come into her service. “Your safety means more to me than anything and you and your family are stuck here, I’m a hostage  _ again _ , I don’t believe Jon’s safe… I don’t know what to do, Brienne.”

The tall knight reached out and took her Ladies dainty hand, so unlike her large calloused and scarred one. “You should have faith in me, My Lady. I won’t let anything happen to you or me or the baby. I’ll fight our way out of here if needs be.”

“You’re six months pregnant,” laughed Sansa. “I don’t think you’re all that fit to fight.”

“I can still swing a sword better than any of them,” Brienne replied stubbornly. 

_ Not totally a lie. _

She could still swing a sword better than most, she had better footwork than many, more strength, more patience, and a valyrian steel sword to boot. She even became accustomed to the extra weight in her chest and midsection. It was just the whole getting out of breath far quicker than normal, vertigo, muscle pains and fear of over exerting herself that was hindering her performance.

“Even still; I think you should leave the fighting to Pod for now. He’s become quite the accomplished swordsman.”

Brienne leaned back in her chair, eyeing her Lady carefully. 

“I hadn’t realized you were observing Podrick’s training sessions.” 

“I haven’t been. He’s been showing me some of his moves when he has guard duty. He’s quite the impressive fighter.” 

Brienne pretended not to notice the tiny flush of red in her Lady’s ivory cheeks, the same way she pretended not to notice the spark in her squires eyes whenever he talked about the red headed wolf.

She would have to talk to Podrick about his infatuation eventually, and sooner rather than later judging by the smile that graced her squires face lately when he talked about Sansa. Falling for a key member of a Great House’s brought enough difficulties when you were the heir to a fairly wealthy House. But Pod was from a lesser branch of a lesser family, a Westerland family at that, while Sansa was the Key to the North in all but name.

It would end in tears for Sansa and heartbreak for Podrick, and Brienne needed to put a stop to it before either of the people she cared about ended up hurt.

After they said their goodbyes for the evening Brienne headed back to her room, her mind swimming with bits and pieces of possible ways to have this conversation with her squire which was making her painless head start to throb and THAT in turn was agitating the knight who had been enjoying this blessed day without the familiar pounding in her head.

As luck would have it when she walked into her chambers Podrick was already there, wringing his hands together nervously and when he saw her he swallowed hard and he wore a look of failed nerves and fear.

His body was wading side to side, not enough to fall but enough to let her know the boy she took under her wing had a bit too much wine after supper.

“Podrick,” Brienne greeted as cordially as possible with a friendly nod. “What are you doing in here?”

“I- noth- nothing My Ser. Lady- My Lady,” Pod stammered out even more jittery than usual. His shaking hand wiped at the beads of sweat that had gathered on his brow.

Brienne looked at him carefully. His face had gone a sickly pale and for a moment she thought he might vomit. “Are you alright, Podrick?”

He nodded quickly, not offering any words but a stammered mumbled jumble that she couldn’t quite understand. His face turned an even paler shade of white and Brienne crossed the room to the window. 

“Sit down,” she told him as she jerked open the window to get some air in their room, even if it did stink of soot and sulfur. The knight turned back to her squire. “You look like you’re about to pass-... out.”

Brienne blinked once, twice, three times as her mind fought to caught up to what her eyes were seeing which was a trembling Podrick Payne on one knee, a simple copper ring in a black box in his hand and looking more frightened then he had did when he fought the dead.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Pod kept opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to talk but the words were stuck in the back of his throat and finally, thankfully, Brienne managed to get her tongue and lips to cooperate.

“Podrick?”

“Yes, My Lady?” Pod gulped, his voice overflowing with dread and terror

“What are you doing?”

“Proposing mar- marriage, My Lady.”

Brienne blinked again. “Podrick?”

“Yes, My Lady?”

“Stand up.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

Podrick did as he was told, now looking far worse as Brienne had ever seen him and then some, but that didn’t stop her from storming over to him and slapping him across the face, hard. He fell to the ground, groaning in pain and wiping a trickle of blood from his lip.

“How dare you,” she spat, jabbing a long calloused finger in his direction. “How DARE you mock me!”

His dark eyes grew wide at the implication and he fumbled to his feet. “Ser- My Lady no, never! I just-!”

“After everything I taught you, after everything I’ve done for you, after all we went through together?” 

She willed the tears away from her big blue eyes, telling herself it was pregnancy hormones and not the fact that her squire, one of only two men in her life who never once insulted her, who never once made her feel less than because of her sex, had just played a vicious prank on her and was making her upset enough to shed tears.

“I wasn’t mocking you, My Lady!” he insisted.

“Oh so you just decided to propose marriage for what?” She cut off more of his useless stammering, hating herself for the fact her eyes grew wet again. “You’re mocking me, you’re playing a- a cruel joke, for what reason I don’t know but-!”

He groaned, putting his face in his hands. “That’s not it, My Lady!  I- just- I wanted to-!” Pod looked at her then, hopeless and desperate with that same shadow of pitying sympathy that he gave her when she told him about Renly etched on his face. “I heard some of the men talking and I found out about you rejecting your father’s betrothal to Ser Hayden and how you don’t think Ser Jaime would want to marry you either.” A red blush crept into his skin, embarrassed at the fact he had listened to gossip about the Lady Knight. “They said that you- your honor, that it meant nothing if you gave birth to a bastard and I know that’s not true, My Lady, I swear it! You’re the most honorable knight I know, you’re the most honorable person I’ve ever met. If you were a man, there would already be a hundred songs written about you and your deeds. But the- the point was I-...” He looked down at his boots. “I figured if you were married and the baby had a proper name when she was born...”

The anger melted from her face like a snow fall in summer and guilt replaced her tears. “You wanted to protect my honor,” she finished for him, her accusation confirmed with a nod. “You wanted to make sure my baby wasn’t named a bastard.”

“It wouldn’t be a real marriage!” he assured her as quick as he could get the words to speak. “It-, I mean it would, legally, but it- it wouldn’t in other parts, the important parts, I mean.” His face burned hotter than dragon’s fire and Brienne’s was sure hers was doing the same. “I wouldn’t share your bed. I wouldn’t be lord of Tarth, I’d still be your squire…” Pod wrang his hands together, still not able to meet her eye. “I just- I know what your reputation means to you My Lady, and a squire’s job is to protect their knight from all harm. It shouldn’t stop on the battlefield.”

Despite everything, a soft sad smile graced her plain face. Pod wasn’t being cruel. On the contrary; he was trying to save her honor, he was trying to save her the embarrassment from giving birth out of wedlock, he was trying to save her daughter from the shame of having a bastard name and had slapped him for his troubles when all he wanted to do was help.

She willed the blush away and used all of her power to hold back a shudder of disgust at the thought of being with Pod the way a wife would be with a husband. 

“I thank you for this, Podrick. Truly. But... you’re… you. No offense meant, of course.”

This was her squire, this was the person she taught to fight and ride properly and how to skin rabbits and make fires… This was  _ Podrick _ for Gods sake! Marrying him, even if, as he said, the two of them wouldn’t take part in the ‘important’ aspects of marriage, was out of the question absolutely and without question.

Pods face turned even more crimson and he shifted his feet, fidgeting quite a bit even for even him.  “I know… I know my House isn’t as grand as House Lannister or House Baratheon, My Lady,” he muttered. “And I know I’m not a Lord-”

“That has nothing to do with my refusal,” she reassured him rather quickly. “Quite frankly I’m a bit put-off that you think my affections for Renly or Ser Jaime have anything to do with the Houses they belong to or the titles they hold. You could be Aegon the Conqueror come again, that wouldn’t change the fact that I think of you more as a son than anything else.”

Pod, whose own mother ran off when he was just four years old, raised his eyes to meet hers finally, an almost unbearably hopeful grin lighting up his somewhat portly face. “Really?”

“Of course I do!” Brienne practically snapped at the younger man. How had he not realized that by now? Rather than be deterred at the edge of sharpness, his smile grew. “But do you see now why even a faux-marriage wouldn’t work?” He nodded a touch embarrassed at the situation he put himself in. “You’re my squire, Podrick. It wouldn’t be right or fair to you to be stuck in a loveless marriage just for the sake of my honor,” she told him using a far gentler tone than she had moments ago. “You should be with a woman you love who loves you in return, who cares for you in a way a wife cares for a husband.” 

_ I’m going to regret this… I know I will. Please Pod, please don’t mess this up for Sansa… _

“If you… if there’s a woman who you have feelings for… you should be with her instead,” she told him, hoping the uncertainty she was feeling wasn’t evident in her words.

His blush was back in full force, the same flush of color he always seemed to get whenever the conversation turned to the she-wolf they were sworn to protect.

“Well… there is- there is one- one girl,” he stammered out. “I’ve… had feelings for her for a while.”

_ Please don’t make me regret this… _

“Then… then you should go to her. Tell her how you feel. Just… just know that if it ends in heartbreak for you or her, for any reason, rather it be she has to marry another or she turns you down because of your family history, you cannot allow it to affect your work,” she said carefully, letting the young boy know full and well she knew exactly who he was talking about even if he didn’t say the words.

The realization dawned on him later rather than sooner that Brienne knew who his mystery woman was. But rather than confirm or deny the accusations he gave her a curt nod and promised her in a stout and strong voice that it wouldn’t affect anything.

With both of them promising not to mention the happenings of the last few minutes Pod left her chambers. Just as Brienne was about to settle down for the night there was a knock at her door. Groaning, Brienne pushed herself up from her bed, silently cursing who was making her climb to her feet at this hour when all she wanted to do was sleep. She opened the door with a heavy sigh to let the intruder know that she was rather tired that quickly turned into alertness while life flooded her eyes.

“What are you doing here so late?” she asked Jaime who was carrying a package wrapped in crimson velvet beneath his arm that he held up as an answer to her inquiry.

“I have a gift,” he told her with something akin to a childlike excitement as he made his way into her room, placing the parcel on a stand and standing beside it. Brienne shut the door behind them and walked over to him, unable to stop the corner of her lips from turning upwards as she watched him practically jump up and down from anticipation. “Think of it as a pre-birthing gift.”

Brienne smiled as she started opening the soft covering. “Jaime, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to,” he assured her but she couldn’t answer, because she was trying too hard to bite back her tears and she knew if she spoke just then they would burst fourth.

In the folds of the crimson velvet was a pair of brand new calf-leather boots. They were a pale tan in color with the sun and crescent moon of Tarth stitched on in dark yellow and soft blue thread respectively and when Brienne reached out to touch them the leather felt softer than anything she had ever worn, even the ones she had made at Winterfell. The inside was lined in a soft breathable red fabric and a small golden lion was stitched and hidden away on the inside of the boots, a secret only she and Jaime would share. They weren’t stiff leather like men’s boots tended to be and were instead were soft and supple, a proper Lady’s boots, but were adorned with no jewels, no decorations other than the stitchings, and the laces were the same tan as the boots. There was no heel to speak of, which was just how she liked her shoes (she already had enough height on her, she didn’t need to add anymore artificially.)

Brienne pricked then up carefully as if they might break and sat down on the bed,  running her fingers over the intricate stitching of the sun. She finally amazed to tear her eyes away from them and looked up at him. “They’re exquisite,” she whispered, holding them close. “But I- I thought all the cobblers in Kingslanding-.”

“I didn’t have them made in Kingslanding, I had them made in Casterly Rock,” he told her. “Jonah was my brother’s personal cobbler so he’s used to working with unusual and difficult sizes.”

“Jaime, I-... I don’t know what to say…”

“You could try them on and let me know how they feel.”

Holding back a childlike grin, Brienne pulled off Jaime’s mud stained boots and pulled on his gift, her smile growing as the boots encased her feet in form fitting softness like she was slipping on a glove. Even with the extra size from the pregnancy he managed to size them perfectly, the same magical way he got her armor fit spot-on without so much as taking a single measuring tape to her.

It amazed her how much he actually knew her, not just herself and her being, but her whole body, even after just glimpsing at them once or twice during their shared bath.

“They’re perfect,” she told him as she stood up, not even minding when Jaime gently grabbed hold of her arm to help her stand. She took a few steps to test them out and was delighted to find they fit and moved when she walked like she was gliding through the clouds. 

“Thank you, Jaime… I don’t know how I can repay you.”

“It’s a gift, Brienne, you don’t repay a gift.”

“You’ve already given me so much with the armor and Oathkeeper and my knighthood and now this… I’ve never given you anything in return.”

She watched the smile on Jaime’s face fall. Her heart began racing in a rather pleasant way when he walked over to her. “You’ve given me more than I could ever pay back in a hundred years,” he began softly. “You gave me my honor back, you gave me hope that I could be a good man again, you gave me a second chance at being a father.” Jaime reached up and laid a hand on her swollen stomach and Brienne laid one of hers overtop of it, her thumb gently stroking the back of his hand.“If anyone is in debt, it’s me to you. A pair of boots and a set of armor can’t start to compare to everything you’ve given me.”

She watched him take a deep breath. “But a Lannister always pays their debts. And I have another gift for you, another way to help pay down my debt… You up for a walk?”

Brienne followed him out of her chambers and followed him down several long corridors and down several winding sets of stairs. It took a minute before she realized Dustmagget and Jaehaerys weren’t with them.

“They’re guarding the gift,” Jaime told her when she asked where his Unsullied shadows were. 

That took Brienne back some and she faltered in the steps. “What on earth did you get me that requires two guards?”

“It’s not so much an object as it is a location.” 

They made their way down a few more staircases until finally, Jaime assisted her down the last few stairs onto a dark stone landing where only Jaime’s flickering torchlight lit their way forward. It was cold down here and damp as well. There were moans and coughs and tears coming behind the wooden doors with iron bars on top of the thick oak doors. One or two men were looking at her through them but vanished into the darkness before she could get a glimpse at them.

_ The dungeons,  _ she realized with a shudder as she fell in-step alongside Jaime,  _ we’re in the dungeons. _

“Why are we here?” Brienne asked as they made their way down the long stone corridor, doing her best to ignore a man groaning that he was dying and was begging for help. “What’s happening, Jaime?”

“We’re on the second floor of the dungeons,” he told her. “Prisoners who aren’t just in for petty crimes but aren’t so bad that they deserve the black cells.”

“But why? What gift could you give me that’s down here?”

Jaime stopped in front of a door they was unlike the other cell doors in that it was ajar and turned towards her. “It took a fair bit of blackmail to find out where he was,” he admitted. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t give you this earlier.”

“Give me what?”

Jaime used his stump to push open the door and Brienne’s breath froze as her growing eyes fell on the ‘gift’ Jaime was giving her; Raeko kneeling on the stone floor with his head bowed. Dustmagget and Jaehaerys were flanked on either side of him, sharpened spears aimed at the Horselord whose wrists and ankles were shackled to the floor. He had lost some weight and the torchlight flickering across his copper skin showed several fresh bruises and cuts on his handsome face. The knights heart pounded painfully hard against her ribs and her hand began to shake as she looked at the man who hurt her, who would have raped and murdered her had she not useda rare moment of cunning, who threatened to kill her child… She wrapped her arms protectively around her swollen stomach when Brienne felt the life inside her begin to kick and twist violently.

_ She’s scared… she knows you’re frightened and that’s what’s scaring her. You can’t be scared, you have to be brave for her. You have to be her lion. _

Brienne waited until she was sure her voice wouldn’t tremble before she spoke up, keeping her eyes locked on the shackled man in front of her. “Why did you bring me down here?” she demanded. 

Raeko snapped his head up to look at her, brown eyes burning in abhorrence, so much so that that Brienne instinctively took a step back and clutched Oathkeeper hilt.

“Shekh Nayat...” he hissed with loathing before Dustmagget hit him, hard, in the back of the head while Jaehaerys grabbed him by the back of his head and forced his sight downwards again.

“I said keep your head DOWN!” Jaehaerys barked at him in Valerian, brown eyes brimming with hate for the Dothraki. “You don’t look at her!”

Jaime was next to her then and she flinched at the warmth he was giving off, what would have been a welcome contradiction to the damp and dreary cell any other time, but now she didn’t want him anywhere near her. Not just Jaime but anyone, she didn’t want to be touched, she didn’t want to stand close enough for someone to touch her, even an accidental brush of her fingers. Brienne took a small step to the left to create some distance between her and the man who just minutes ago had been able to touch their child without so much as a flicker of a shadow of a dark memory.

“Do you know why the Dothraki men have such long hair?” Jaime asked her without taking his eyes off the seething rider. Brienne nodded. “So you know that they only cut their hair if they’re defeated.” Another silent nod. There was the sound of metal being unsheathed and Jaime held up a straight razor. Brienne looked at him, furrowing her brow for only a moment before she realized why he had brought her down here, why she was standing in this dirty foul smelling cell with her would-be rapist. Brienne took the razor from Jaime and examined it. It’s edge was honed and sharp but not to the point where it would glide through his thick hair like a hot knife through butter. 

The knight turned back to Raeko who was letting out quick short breaths, his shackled hand curled into such a tight fist that his dirty nails were cutting into his skin and slowly walked over to him. He started to lift his eyes to look at her again but Jaehaerys hit him and he quickly looked downcast, spitting a slew of Dothraki curses at her. She stood behind him, razor in hand. Being so close to him again, so close she could see the tense muscles flex under his copper colored skin, could smell his sweat, could see the small scars from years and years of fighting and battles, it unnerved her, it brought her back to a place she screamed at herself to stay away from.

_ You’re safe _ , she told herself sternly as she willed her feet now encased in her brand new boots forward.  _ You have Oathkeeper, he can’t take it away from you now. Jaime’s here, he’ll protect his cub. Dustmagget and Jaehaerys, they’ll keep Raeko at bay. I have Oathkeeper. Jaime’s here. I have Oathkeeper. Jaime’s here. I have Oathkeeper. Jaime’s here. I have Oathkeeper. Jaime’s here... _

His long black hair had been brushed and braided recently she noticed as she looked at the braid that, when he was kneeling, the end of it coiled on the floor. Her hand shook violently as she reached for his braid and she pulled it back, closing it into a fist. 

_ I have Oathkeeper. Jaime’s here.  _

Brienne steadied the trembling hand and she reached out again, grabbing his braid. His hair was surprisingly soft, almost as soft as Jaime’s was. She held the razor up and marveled at how the silver reflected the torchlight and shimmered in the light of the soft orange flames before she put it at the base of his braid. She pulled as sharply as he had pulled at her hair, yanking his head back so he was forced to look up at her. 

His long white scar was a thick black line in the dim light.

_ I have Oathkeeper. Jaime’s here.  _

“No sound,” Brienne spat before she pushed his head forward so he was staring down at the ground again.

She took a deep breath before she started to saw through the thick black braid, the symbol of his strength and prowess, of what he thought gave him the right to her, what gave him the right to threaten her child. His shoulders shook and she heard him choke back tears as she grabbed a hold of his now short hair and began hacking away with the razor. Brienne was no longer in the dungeon cell, she was in her chambers. The horselord was on top of her, hitting her, grabbing her, kissing her, threatening her, threatening her daughter… Every swipe of the razor was a fist against her pale flesh, every clump of hair that she threw to the ground was a foul tasting kiss, every flash of red she saw amongst the inky blackness was him cutting her face.

When she pulled particularly hard at one but of hair she heard it. It was choked and muffled but the tears were obvious.

“No sound,” she snarled at him, grabbing hold of another chunk of hair and slicing through it with the razor. “No sound,” she repeated, cutting away more of his hair in a frenzy. “No sound!” Brienne hacked at his hair, over and over, until she realized the sobs she were hearing weren’t just his but her own, and she threw down the razor streaked with red with a shudder. 

Raeko’s once great thick braid was now a few short uneven black tufts with drizzles of red where she had cut his scalp. If Daenerys ever let him out of this dungeon he would be shamed when others saw his hair, he would be humiliated, he would know that others saw that he had been beaten, they would openly stare and snicker and wonder what had happened.

Men would look at his shaved head the same way they would look at Brienne's scar when she finally found the courage to take off the bandage.

She looked up and saw Jaime who had tears flooding his ears. The two of them locked eyes for a moment and he gave her a curt nod, stepping out of the way of the door. Without bothering to wipe away her tears, Brienne hurried out of the dungeon, more grateful than she could have managed to say that she hears no footsteps behind her. Up the stairs and through the long corridors, Brienne finally managed to make it back to her chambers, closing and bolting the door behind her. When she was sure there was no one to hear her, she sank down bringing her knees to her chest and began to weep. She was sure others could hear her (how could they not?) but at that moment she didn’t care about her shame or embarrassment, she couldn’t stop the tears that were spilling out of her for reasons she wouldn’t have been able to explain if asked.

When she had no more tears to shed she stood slowly, tired and weary to the point it took all of her effort to make it to her bed and when she reached it she sat down hard with a groan. She was so tired, and sleep had never seemed so inviting, but she had to do this. If she didn’t do it now, she never would…

There was a small mirror face down on the small stand beside her bed that she so far had only used to make sure her hair was properly slicked back but since that night she hadn’t touched it. She hasn’t touched any mirror nor looked in one since she knew she would see the bandage over her marred face and even knowing she would see the bandage was enough to bring her close to tears.

But tonight, she would look intentionally, and when she did she would see her scar, not it’s white mask. The bandage was damp with her tears and it peeled away with little resistance and she flinched when her fingers brushed against the mark as she pulled it away.

Brienne took another minute or so to brace her nerves and when she was as ready as she would ever be, she reached out and picked up the handheld mirror with a shaking hand, turning it over so she was able to see herself.

Her first thought was how long it was. 

It ran just below her eye and came to a stop at the corner of her jaw. Raeko has cut her deep and whine the skin had healed and the stitches had been small there was still a noticeable crevice in her face. It was a pale white color with a slight shade of reddish purple that she knew would fade in time but she had one consolation in that it was shorter than Raekos who went all the way past the center of his chin and the very tip of it touched his eye socket.  She had been spared that horror at least. The only part of herself that she actually liked, the only part of her that others considered beautiful had been left unbesmirched.

Brienne reached up and lightly fingered the scar. The pain was dull and faded and didn’t even register unless she pressed down. It was ugly, incredibly ugly, and had she been a beauty it would have been an absolutely devastating thing what happened to her. The song of how the beauty of Tarth was now scarred would be sung from Dorne to the Wall. But instead, on her, it was just another thing for men to stare at and whisper about. It was like her height, her broadness, her too-full lips, her short hair, her ugliness… Another card to add in the shuffle of her overall unattractiveness.

The only question was now; would Jaime be able to overlook it? Would he see it as just another something to ignore or pretend wasn’t there. He had overlooked all her other unfortunate attributes, her unusual height, her large muscles, her small bosom, her face, all of her faults he looked past but this was something else… this was a reminder of a tragedy, glaring and shockingly obvious. When he kissed her, when he stroked her face, it would be as obvious as the sunlight on a summer day.

_ He may still want you, _ she told herself, ever the hopeless romantic as she stood up from her bed and walked out of the room.  _ He may be willing to look past it. I have to know, one way or the other... _

Her hopes that the short walk between her chambers and Jaime’s were empty were dashed almost at once when she saw Aileen walk down the hall, honey brown eyes glued to the long scar on her face. Her dress was long and flattering as always, and was a sheer wintery blue with the Tarth sigil, Brienne's family sigil, stitched onto the bodice as big and noticeable as you liked.

“Oh wow,” the younger woman snickered as she looked at the scar. She stopped right in front of Brienne, gazing up at the mark on her face. “I knew he cut you good for you wear that gauze all this time but that is really something.”

“Please pardon me,” Brienne said dryly as she went to move past her. She had too long a night to deal with her father’s paramour right now. 

When the tall blonde started to walk away, Aileen called out to her. “If you weren’t ugly before, that would certainly do it,  _ My Lady _ .”

Something roared to life inside Brienne. A rare, if never before felt in her life, anger seized hold of her at the words that rang in her ears. Brienne was sick to death of people, her own people at that,  getting away with insults and sneers and snickers. She was tired of others mocking her, she was tired of the belittling, she was tired of all of it. Brienne led a battalion against the dead, she fought a bear and lived, she went up against a Dothraki Bloodrider and won, and just now she had faced the deepest fear in the pit of her soul and beaten it back with a straight edged razor… She was not about to let a woman, a low born paramour, get away with insulting her 

_ Mothers and mates of lions did not walk away from insults. _

Brienne whipped back around and stormed over to the woman, a raging fire burning in her blue eyes. Aileen has started to walk away and Brienne grabbed her by the shoulder and whipped her around painfully fast, gaining the younger woman’s rapt attention. She  _ very _ rarely, if ever, used her height to intimidate someone when she wasn’t in combat, especially a woman, but right then she used every single inch of her to get right up close to Aileen, staring the bewildered and slightly frightened woman down. 

“You may not respect me as a person, and that’s perfectly fine.” Brienne spoke as harshly and as sharply as she had ever dared herself to do before. “No one can be forced to respect another person. But what you WILL respect is that I am the Evenstars daughter and you WILL respect that I am to be Evenstar and the Lady of our island after him and you WILL respect that the island you live on is my namesake. And most importantly you WILL respect that I have the blood of kings and the Blood of the Dragon inside me and you will NOT insult me again.”

A smirk made its way to her large swollen lips and she leaned in closer. “Also, while you have been sleeping with a sixty three year old man who won’t keep you around longer than a year; I,  _ Brienne the Beauty _ , the woman you and countless others have endlessly mocked for my looks, had Jaime Lannister, The Lion of the Rock and the father of my child, on his knees  _ BEGGING _ to fuck me.”

Brienne regarded her with the first sneer she ever wore in her life, blue eyes looking her up and down in the same belittling way Aileen had looked at her with. “Don’t ever let me catch you wearing my sigil again. You are not, and never will be, a Tarth.”

Brienne turned on the heel of her new boots and made her way to Jaime’s chambers, leaving a wide eyed and slack jawed Aileen in her wake. When she arrived she slammed on the door, her heart racing and hands shaking with adrenaline. She heard hurried footsteps inside and a moment later the door was wrenched open and Jaime stood there looking absolutely stunned.

“What’s wrong?” Jaime demanded from his knight. “Brienne, are you alright? What hap-?”

She didn’t let him finish. She grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him towards her, slamming her lips against his. He stayed frozen for only a moment before he began kissing her back, both of them hungry and wanting and desperate. Brienne pushed him back into his chambers, her lips never leaving his before she slammed the door behind her...

 

Please Review :-) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told y’all Aileen would get hers! And I really feel the moment was a lot more powerful here then it would have been at the feast. Also this one took out a lot outta me. But I hated how in the show Brienne never got her revenge against Locke the way she got it against Rorge & Shagwell in the books and I REALLY hate that Locke died with the Nightswatch thinking he was a hero so yeah, she got her moment of win against Raeko. But yeah, that scene was was hard to write, actually harder than the actual assault chapter tbh, and I really hope y’all liked it.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend ‘Devil’s Backbone’’ by The Civil Wars then ‘By Your Side’ by Ane Brun (in that order) for musical accompaniment for this chapter.

Brienne hardly waited until the chamber door latched before she swung Jaime around and pressed him against the stone wall, her hands working feverishly to undo the laces on his shirt. 

If he thought the suddenness of the situation odd he didn’t say anything and allowed her to tear off his undershirt and toss it to the unswept floor. Her lips stayed pressed on his all the while, their tongues dancing a familiar dance, one that moist and hot and breathy, eager, enticing and wanting. 

Jaime reached up and tore at the laces holding her shirt closed and they fell under the strength of his fingers and between the three hands managed to discard her shirt revealing the soft pale skin. underneath. Brienne watched as his eyes traveled from her eyes down past the four long scars courtesy of her time in the bear pit on her neck, and marveled at her chest, now at least two and a half sizes then the last time they had been intimate. A low growl rumbled in her lions throat as he openly feasted with emerald eyes on her breasts, the possessiveness and animalistic way he was looking at her sending a flood of dampness between her legs.  

He twisted them around so that her back was against the stone wall. Jaime groped the soft swell of her breast, running the pad of his thumb over her nipple and stiffening the pink bud with his touch, causing Brienne to shudder pleasantly as he he began drawing his well practiced lips and tongue away from her lips and onto her cheek, across her jaw and finally began worshipping her long neck with his feverish kisses. 

_ My cheek, _ she realized as her eyes flew open.  _ My cheek, he kissed my cheek, he kissed my scar… _

Brienne pulled away, already hating the cold draft taking place where his warmth had been and stared at an understandably confused Jaime.

“What?” he asked, his breath a heavy pant. “Brienne, wha-?”

“You… you kissed me.”

He gave her a short laugh and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Very observant, My Lady,” he purred, green eyes blackened with lust. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d really like to get back to doing just that.”

Jaime leaned in again and Brienne pulled away. Her confusion grew as to if he was being serious grew when he let out a rather frustrated groan, dropping his face for a moment before he lifted his head back up. He sounded as patient and gentle as he could given the circumstances. “What’s wrong?” 

Brienne quirked a pale eyebrow at him. “My scar? You just kissed it?”

Jaime blinked, and then the realization hit him so suddenly that Brienne almost found humor in it.  “Your- your scar- your scar, you took the bandage off!”

Brienne nodded, suddenly self conscious not only of the mark on her face but of everything wrong with her body. The four deep scars on her chest, every single freckle, her large lips, her short straw colored hair, her broken nose… everything he somehow managed to look past, every unfortunate feature he said was actually endearing she felt as if was highlighted and even more obvious than it normally was.

_ This was a mistake.  _

Any adrenaline and high that had spurred her on and given her the confidence to show up at his door kissing him and stripping one another down as fast as three hands could disapperated as quick as it came. Her blush grew a hundred fold and she bowed her head as Jaime examined her scar, as he examined the reminder of what had happened to her, the reminder that she and their cub were nearly killed, the reminder that another man tried to take what was only his. She closed her eyes, sure that she would see disgust that Jaime would try to hide from her but she would be sure to recognize anyway. Brienne waited for him to walk away shaking his head in revulsion as he did, for him to tell her that it was too much a reminder of what the horselord did and he wouldn’t be able to enjoy her anymore, for him to apologize profusely but he just couldn’t get past this. 

_ He’s already looked past so much, it’s unfair to ask him to look past something like this. _

She flinched when she felt a calloused cool hand on her cheek, his thumb stroking the long crevice in her face. Brienne opened her eyes but she couldn’t find the courage to look at him and she choose to stare at the floors. 

“Brienne, this-.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” she begged him.

“What do you mean?” he replied without taking his hand from her face.

“Don’t tell me it’s beautiful, don’t tell me it isn’t ugly, don’t sweeten the truth. I need to know if you… if you’re able to stomach this or… not.”

“...My Lady, look at me. Please.”

Summoning all of the strength she had left after all that happened They night Brienne raised her head so the two of them could meet one another’s eyes. The chill of the wintery night blew through the drafty cracks in the walls. Jaime kept his hand on her face, never stopping the slow soft movements of his fingers caressing her marred skin. “I won’t lie to you,” he told her, his voice and expression letting her know he was speaking nothing but truths. “It’s a very noticeable scar. It’s unsightly and I can’t tell you how sorry I am that he maimed your face because any scar on a face is horrifying but one this obvious and noticeable… It’s a tragedy, no matter who would wear it.”

Brienne forced her expression to be as stoic and cold as the Wall. She knew Jaime was not one to soften his words when she asked for honesty, and he had delivered. The arm missing it’s hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her in close, his hand never stop stroking her face. “It’s ugly,” he said again, gentler with soft kind eyes, “and more than that the world will know it when they see you. But I see something more than just an unattractive scar when I look at it, I see how hard you fought for our cub. I see how strong you are that you went up against a Bloodrider and came out alive on the other side, I see strength and determination and the will to fight and live, I see you fighting for our daughters life.” 

She bit back her tears as Jaime’s hand moved from her face and buried itself in her short hair, running through her soft blonde tresses like a gentle wind. “You asked me for my truth, I gave it to you fully.” Jaime gifted her a grin that bordered somewhere on the edge of flirty. “Now… May I please resume kissing you?”

A laugh that might have woken the dead and grew Jaime’s  smile tenfold escaped her lips and she nodded, pleased that he wasted not even an instant before he pressed his lips not against her own, but against her scar, kissing every inch of the monstrosity from its top down her cheek and to the bottom of her jaw and only then did he kiss her properly. The hand buried in her hair gave a firm tug as he pressed up against her as much as her swollen stomach would allow him and her own arms wrapped around him, short nails digging into his muscled back. 

When his hand slid down and pawed at her ass she moaned into his mouth, a glorious sound she knew he liked because he wasted no time in squeezing her flesh tighter.

“Jaime,” she panted before his lips mashed against hers again, his kiss wild and energetic and no less full of desire then if he was kissing the Maid Herself. The bristle of his beard scratched pleasantly against her skin as their tongues danced in sync, him exploring her mouth first before she pushed back and then she was tasting him.

Before she knew what was what, the two of them fell into an ocean of wool blankets and stiff peasants sheets, their lips never leaving each other, his tongue pressing together and gliding over hers as the two of them climbed further up on the bed so their legs weren’t dangling off. He wasted no time in climbing on top of her while her calloused hands explored every inch of his muscled chest decorated with scars from battles and tourneys. His lips moved behind her ear, sucking and kissing the spot that seemed to be connected directly to what lay between her legs and she whimpered, nails digging deeper into his back as his hand moved from her hair to her chest. Jaime pinched and lightly tugged at her nipple, grinning when he caused her to cry out and arch her back, pressing her breast further into his well practiced hand. He gave its mirror an equal assault, soothing the sharp pain with a soft kiss and a warm tongue, before he began unlacing her breeches and managing to get them off fairly quickly for a one handed man and only requiring Brienne's assistance to pull them down just low enough that he could use his feet.

The green eyed knight began moving his lips slowly down her long neck, her breasts, the swell of her stomach, and then he kneeled on the floor at the foot of the bed, grabbing her ankles and pulling her to the edge of the mattress. Brienne propped herself on her elbows to look at him and Gods save her, the look in his eyes soaked her past what she thought was capable. Jaime was every bit the predatory lion others thought of him as, looking like he had cornered his prey and wanted to play with its food before he made the killing strike. He nipped at the soft smooth skin of her thigh and Brienne cried out, arching her back as he moved his playful bites down, flicking his eyes to meet hers and each time he did the tall knight swore she could have cum just from the sight alone, of him kneeling between her legs, emerald eyes darkened with lust and wanting. 

He buried his face in her sex and Brienne arched off his bed, crying out his name as he licked the honey from between her legs. He used his handless arm to hold her in place as his tongue and lips danced on the spot where where no other man but Jaime had-... Where she gave no other man permission but him to touch her.  

Brienne shook that thought swiftly from her head. She did not want to think about anything else but the feel of his tongue and soft lips on her sex. 

His mouth was warm and wet and his movements made cry out her lions name, rolling her hips and grabbing his mane of golden hair and pulling him closer as if he might fly away if she didn’t hold onto him but rather than be deterred, he increased the feverishness of his assault. His lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves and he began to suck while his tongue flicked its tip against her clit, and she felt him grinning against her as she threw her head back and screamed his name out for all seven Gods to hear while her slick sweet wetness drenched her and gave him a taste of what they both thought he might never have on his tongue again.

Brienne was close, so close she could almost taste it. Just a few more strokes of his tongue and a few more moments of him sucking on her clit and he would have her right where he wanted her. Without warning he pushed one finger inside her and then another, twisting and curling them, pushing them in and out, in and out again and again, over and over… 

She opened her eyes and swallowed hard as Jaime fucked her with his fingers and mouth. All of a sudden what he was doing didn’t feel as good as it had felt moments ago. All of a sudden what he was doing didn’t feel good, it felt… wrong. And painful, and terrifying and unwanted.

“No,” she whimpered, too soft for her to even hear herself.  _ Stay with him… please…  _ Brienne no longer felt his mouth in her, only his fingers deep inside her. They were long and thick, copper colored and she wasn’t in his bed being pleasured but rather she was in her own chambers on the cold hard floor being forced. Raeko was slamming his fingers into her, stretching her, twisting and thrusting inside her as hard as he could. 

Stop!” Brienne barked sharply, pushing his head away, scrambling up the mattress to get away from him, her breaths heavy and pointed as reality slowly filled her sight again and just as quickly, her face turned a brilliant burning crimson. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the man who had just wanted to bring her pleasure, and most definitely had, after she ruined a much wanted moment between them  _ again.  _ She heard him stand up and then felt him sit on the bed beside her. Brienne pulled her knees to her chest, as close to her chest as they could get in any case, and rested her chin on top of them, averting her eyes from the man sitting next to her and instead staring at the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, pulling the blanket around her. “I’m sorry I keep ruining everything.”

“You haven’t ruined anything.” She scoffed, rolling her blue eyes to the ceiling. “You haven’t.” Jaime was just as stern as he had been when he offered to knight her and she thought it was just a jest. “These things happen.”

“Twice in a row?” she said flatly. She shook her head, pushing her short blonde hair out of her still ted face. “This was a mistake.”

“I most assuredly believe it wasn’t.”

“It was. This just proves even if someone is somehow able to look past… Gods, everything wrong with me physically,” she said with a humorless laugh still not looking at him. “They’ll have to deal with a celebite wife. When I marry,  _ if _ I get married, they’ll have a scarred sexless ugly wife and a bastard by another man. Some great catch I’d make,” she grumbled. 

“You ARE a catch.” 

“Tarth is a catch,” she corrected him. “The title Evenstar is a catch. I’m not. That’s the only reason why someone would want to marry you.”

_ That and Podrick wanting to protect my honor. _

“I would marry you. I would,” he avowed rather forcefully when Brienne rolled her eyes. 

She finally turned to face him and she would have been lying if she said the the serious look, almost bordering on offended that she didn’t believe him, didn’t stun her. 

“You want to marry me?” 

“Yes.” His voice was pointed, no hint of jest or mocking. 

Brienne scoffed in disbelief, raising a pale eyebrow at the man lying beside her. “Even if you’re never able to touch me again? Even if I can’t ever get over...” A crimson blush overwhelmed her face.  “Everything?”

Jaime reached out and stroked her short hair away from her face. His expression softened considerably. “Would you still be mine?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is…” He reached out and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her as close to him as her swollen stomach would allow. “Even if we never laid together again, if we married, would you still be considered my wife?”

She blinked. “I… Of course, yes, but-.”

He cut off her answer with words as tender and soft as a maidens heart. “Would I still get to make you smile? Would I still be able to spar with you? Would I get to talk to you into all hours of the night and get to show you off as My Lady?” Jaime reached up and cupped her face in his hand, stroking the scar on her face like he was touching something beautiful, not a hint of revulsion in his expression. “Would I still get to look at you every time I went to sleep and have your face be first thing I saw when I woke? I know I still have countless amends to make up for, but if the answer to all that is a resounding ‘yes’ then yes, Brienne. I would love to marry you. No matter if you can’t bring yourself to be touched ever again, even if I have to go celibate the rest of my days, it would be an honor and privilege to be your husband.”

Tears flooded Brienne's blue eyes, the eyes that he constantly told her were beautiful and enchanting and astonishing. She reached up and took his face in her calloused hands. A hard lump formed in her throat as she searched over his face, finding no mockery, no jest, no revulsion for a face that she was told all her life was unloveable. She was hardly able to believe it, even now with their baby growing large inside her, that this perfect specimen actually wanted her, was attracted to her, loved her, wanted to marry her... She was given a miracle that she never thought would happen with anyone, much less someone as almost breathtakingly handsome as Jaime Lannister. 

Her voice was breathy and soft, brimming with a hundred emotions that she couldn’t necessarily name.  “I used to think the Gods cursed me by making me look this way,” she admitted. “I thought perhaps I offended them in a past life so they punished me in this one with ugliness and a figure no man should covet. But maybe… maybe it wasn’t a punishment, but a gift instead. Maybe they made me this way so that there was no chance of anybody else wanting to be with me but you. They didn’t want to risk us not finding one another.”

He gifted her another smile, one that was caring and sweet, before he leaned forward and pressed his gentle lips against hers. He brushed her scar with his thumb before he buried his hand in her hair, running through her short straw colored tresses. The tall knight returned the soft kiss, savoring his kisses of honey and wine. His right arm found its way under the blanket and curled around her waist and Brienne pushed away the blanket wrapped around her and lightly raked what little nails she had down his back.

“We don’t have to,” he breathed, moaning softly as she laid a sweet kiss behind his ear.

“I want to though,” she whispered, feeling a trickle of what he made her feel just minutes ago. “Just… I- I need-...”

Jaime seemed to know what she wanted even if she couldn’t find the words. He wrapped her in his arms and shifted the two of them so that he was beneath her and she was sitting astride him. Brienne shook her head and started to climb off him but Jaime held her firmly in place. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she protested.

“You say that every time you’re on top,” he muttered, running his hand as well as his stump over her thighs and settling on the curve of her ass. “You can’t break me, Brienne.”

She bit her lip as she stared down at him. Her hands raked through his chest hair before she bent down and kissed him, not hungry and wanting like it had been earlier but as soft as a butterfly’s wings and as sweet as wine while his hands moved from the globes of her ass to her breast, caressing the swell of them tenderly and bringing a gentle sigh from her lips. The lady knight felt the heat of him press up against her and she undid his breaches, freeing him from the constraints. She reached for him and began stroking him. Jaime groaned as her large calloused hand moved and tightened and loosened just how she knew he liked.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered before leaning up to bury his face in the crook of her long neck, placing tender kisses on the scarred skin where the bear had marked her, sending a current of want down between her legs. “My Lady, my shining knight, my sapphire beauty…” 

When he was at full hardness, Brienne took a deep breath and guided him inside her. Jaime moaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back as the warmth of her surrounded him. She sank down onto him further, biting her lip as she did. He peppered her face with light airy kisses, her forehead, her cheek, her jaw, her lips, everywhere he could reach. Jaime found that spot behind her ear and sucked at the tender skin making her whimper and mewl.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” he breathed. Without hesitating Brienne grabbed his hand and rested it on her breast and then took his right arm, after placing a kiss on the scars of his stump, and wrapped it around her waist. Their eyes met and the truth of what he wanted was made known to her. He wanted her to have what Raeko tried to take away from her; control. She was on top to control how fast, how hard, how slow, when to stop, when to start… She would guide his hands, she would guide his mouth, his everything… 

The realization almost made her want to weep but instead she placed her hands on his chest and began to slowly ride him.  Brienne took her time with him. Every kiss was soft and light, every touch was a feather on her skin, every stroke she made was slow and gentle. His eyes never left hers, not even for an instant as she moved her tight warmth up and down his shaft. Jaime whispered her name as she moved on top of him and Brienne called out his in the breathless sigh of a lover.

Worlds didn’t collide when she finally came on top of him after months of being apart. Stars didn’t dance before her eyes, she didn’t scream, he didn’t grunt and pant like a dog… It was soft and gentle, the same way she had taken him. She waited until he softened inside her before she climbed off him and laid down beside him, a lazy tired smile gracing both their faces as he wrapped his arms around her and brought her as close as he could.

“I love you,” Jaime told her. 

Brienne rested a hand on his cheek. “I know.”

The two of them stayed like that, staring into one another’s eyes and tangled in each other’s arms, not saying a word, hardly even breathing, barely even moving until Brienne’s smile widened.

“What?” asked Jaime. “What’s happening?”

She didn’t answer with words and instead took his hand and placed it on her swollen stomach. She watched his eyes for a moment and couldn’t help the soft laugh when she saw them widen as the baby kicked against his hand, finally kicking hard enough that someone could feel it on the outside.

His green eyes glittered with tears of joy as he looked from her stomach back to her face. He looked as if he wanted to say a hundred things, each more poetic and emotional than the next before he finally just decided on. “Its her.”

Brienne nodded, her smile growing as she watched him stare in awe where his hand laid. “It’s her. Our little girl, your little cub.” She bit her lip. “Our little Joanna.”

Jaime whipped his head up, eyes wide and jaw slacked. She didn’t another word, just nodded. He told her once when Cersei was pregnant she refused to even entertain the idea of naming Myrcella after the mother they lost. Both the Queen and the knight had enough decency and sense to know their mother wouldn’t have wanted her namesake to be born of incest. It was the same reason why Joffrey and Tommen weren’t Tywin or Kevin and Myrcella wasn’t Genna either. 

But a baby born of love and respect and innocence, a cub grown in the womb of the most honorable and just and decent woman Jaime knew… Joanna would have liked that. She would smile down at that, she wouldn’t be ashamed at having her namesake be used for their babe, she would be happy for Jaime and Brienne and her granddaughter.

“That’s um…” Jaime blinked his tears away and cleared his throat. “Joanna, that’s a good name for… for a little girl.”

She smiled at him, placing her hand above his. “I thought so.” 

Jaime bit his lip as he looked down at their intertwined hands. “But you know what’s an even better name than Joanna Storm?” 

“What?” she asked in that soft breathy whisper of hers, already knowing what he was going to answer.

“Joanna Lannister,” he told her, staring deep into her eyes, asking the question she never thought would be asked of her in two simple words.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and willed her hands to be as steady as they were when she fought. Brienne reached up and placed a hand on his face before she nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

She nodded again, her eyes shining with tears of joy before she met out a breathless laugh. “Yes! Yes, Jaime, yes, I-!” But her words were cut off when he pounced, kissing her deeply and for one moment, the future lioness forgot about the Queen, about Raeko, about the fact that her father hadn’t given permission to marry Jaime… She forgot about everything but the man kissing her and how, even just for a moment, everything was perfect.

 

Please Review!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all! I got a new twitter account! It’s @Lariska_Prgitay and I’m looking for new Braime fans, new Gwen fans, new Brienne fans… Hit me up! Every new follower that mentions they came from here will get a sneak peak from the next chapter. Love you!


	24. Chapter 24

All the dreams Jaime had since he was pulled out from the rubble had been nightmares. It was his penance, the knight believed, for surviving the collapse. If the Gods couldn’t make him face the Seven Hells in death they would make him face it in his sleep.

He would watch Raeko or Locke hurt Brienne while he and Cersei would make love not even a few feet from where the Lady of Tarth lay screaming and begging for help, his children would come back from the dead to fight against him in the Long Night, Robert would beat Cersei while he stood guard outside his door, and, no matter how hard he tried, Jaime could never reach Aerys in time to keep him from setting Kingslanding on fire only his laughing face would morph from Aerys to Cersei to Daenerys...

Those were few and far between though. But there was one nightmare in particular that kept repeating, over and over, at least once a week, and it never failed to reduce him to a frightened gasping mess when he woke.

The Redkeep was burning and collapsing around him. Jaime was in the map room and on one side of him was Cersei, weeping for her and the life inside her without a hint of her pregnancy showing begging for help while Brienne was to the left of him, holding a living breathing babe in her arms but the knight shed no tears, she made no noise, she just looked at him pained and hurt like she knew what his choice would be even before he made it. He would wait until the last second but always, inevitably, Jaime would run to his sister, shielding her as the rocks came crashing down on the lions. It wasn’t the flaming bricks that made him awake gasping for air and drenched in a cold sweat. It was that he would always see Brienne looking at him with something worse than hate right before the crumbling castle claimed her and the baby’s life. She was disappointed in him for choosing wrong. 

Tonight though… tonight was different. For the first time since he awoke in his meager chambers after Waldon healed him, he dreamt of the flaming stones falling on top of them and then, stunning himself with how easy the choice seemed, Jaime raced towards Brienne and the cub in her arms, shielding her and the baby with his body as the bricks and rocks and mortar rained down on the three of them. But this time it was different. This time the rocks didn’t keep coming after he reached the woman he choose but instead there was a deep calming peace in the king's home. The fires extinguished as if they were never there and the Redkeep stood in all its shining glory as it had done for hundreds of years. Jaime blinked and then looked at the tall knight who wore the softest smile anyone had ever seen. 

Brienne handed him the tiny precious bundle in her arms, a relieved smile on her unscarred face and wearing a gown of Lannister crimson trimmed with gold that somehow managed to flatter the tall woman in a way that no other dress he saw her in had been able to do.

“Hold your daughter, Jaime,” she told him, her smile as big as the North.

Jaime looked down at the babe in his arms and he felt himself melt at the sight of her. She was beautiful, she was perfect, she was precious and kind and loving and just so GOOD that he wanted to weep from the glory of her. The infant was pale white with soft golden blonde hair and deep blue eyes, and when she stared up at her father, Jaime felt all the warmth of the Tarth sun exuding from her. Brienne had her wrapped in a blanket of red and gold, not a single stitch of yellow or black to be found and not one hint of stag to sully it. He smiled down at the tiny cub and cradled her close to his chest, whispering only one word to his daughter, the single most beautiful word he ever heard in his life.

“Joanna.”

Jaime’s eyes slowly opened and when they did he noticed that for the first time in months a smile was already gracing his lips when he awoke. 

Joanna Lannister. He smiled at the sound of it as he tested it on his tongue and in his head again and again, the image of their little girl sticking with him long after he opened his eyes to the real world. 

Her name was Joanna. Joanna Lannister. A Lioness of Casterly Rock and daughter of the Evenstar.  _ She’ll be my daughter,  _ Jaime thought, swelling with a pride he hadn’t allowed himself to feel with the other four, even when Cersei promised she would name him the father to the last one.   _ No one else will claim her. I’ll hold her first, she’ll name me ‘Father’ and no one else will share that title. She’ll know I’m her sire, she’ll wear our lion on her chest without rumors and snickers following her. _

The first signs of dawn were just beginning to stream through his window and the dim rays of morning rested on a slumbering Brienne.  They had fallen asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, his hand embracing her stomach and her hand rested on top of his, fitting together like a perfectly designed glove. The lion wore a lazy grin as he looked at his future bride. His future bride… Brienne was going to be his wife. It didn’t matter that Selwyn hadn’t given his blessing, it didn't matter that they were both hostages of a homicidal Queen... The only thing he cared about was that Brienne had said yes. Brienne wanted to be his wife, she wanted to be a Lioness, even after everything he did to her.

Jaimes smile faltered as he turned his gaze from the blonde woman sharing his bed to wooden ceiling high above them. The pain he caused her he knew to be absolute. The pain of not just abandoning her to go back to Cersei but the cruel words that would haunt him the rest of his natural born life. Why would she want to be with him after this? How could she stomach the sight of him much less the idea of spending the rest of her life on his arm?

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

Turning towards the voice Jaime forced some semblance of a smile to his lips. 

“Good morning,” he greeted his betrothed. She was on her side with an arm under her head and the swell of her breast was almost all the way uncovered. The early morning light fell on her pale skin that was exposed above the furs, enveloping her in warm light. The color in her eyes was a soft blue, like a still pond and her short hair was mussed, curled and falling into her face rather than slicked back. She was an absolute vision. 

“Good morning to you as well.” Brienne’s tired eyes searched over his face. “What’s upset you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re terrible at masking your expressions.”

“Am I? One would think that being born a Lannister would come with the innate ability to lie.”

Brienne sat herself up with a groan and a fair amount of effort and leaned against the headboard, rubbing the swell of her stomach with large hands. She looked over at Jaime and she frowned. “What’s wrong, Jaime?” 

He looked at her for a moment. On one hand he wanted to be selfish. He wanted to hold onto the hope that she hadn’t thought about all he had done to her the other night when she agreed to be his wife and he was nervous that him mentioning it now might make her realize she made a mistake by agreeing to marry such a man as him. But the thought of starting their first day of their betrothal with him hiding something from her seemed far worse than anything else. He reached over and grabbed her hand hoping to gain just a tiny cup of the courage that overflowed her in buckets. “Why did you say yes?” 

Her face fell and that familiar blush overwhelmed her features. That cursed look he knew too well, one where she was sure she was being judged for her looks, and most often was right, plagued her. “Did you not want me too?”

“What? No, of course not!” He sat up in a hurry and buried his hand in her hair, turning her face towards him so she could see the truth in his eyes. Her scar was a pale pink in the early morning light. “Last night was one of the happiest nights of my life, Brienne, and I would slay any man who would say otherwise. But there’s something bothering me.” He waited until she glanced up from the scratchy wool blanket up at him. “What I meant to ask was why did you say yes after everything I did to hurt you? Leaving for Kingslanding, being cruel to you… How could you forgive me? Why would you ever want to honor me by agreeing to be my wife?”

Brienne looked deep in thought for a moment. Jaime held his breath, even after she began to speak cool and calmly. “Thats just it, Jaime, I don’t forgive you for what you said to me.”

Oh. Well then.

“I understand why you left,” she continued. “I know you and Cersei had a complicated relationship at best and you had your child to think of. Truth be told I wish you had asked for my help. I would have given it gladly and maybe then we could have saved them both and you wouldn’t have been inches from death yourself. That still doesn’t mean I forgive you almost killing yourself, but I understand it and I don’t hold it against you. Not anymore… not as strong as I did when you first did it.”

Jaime wanted to laugh. Of course Brienne would have volunteered to help save Cersei, a woman who would have executed the knight on sight when she found out about their relationship and had she found out Brienne was carrying Jaime’s child… He didn’t even want to think about what his sister would have done to the mother and babe. His Lady Knight was just THAT good and decent and honorable, a far truer knight then any man alive. Had the Gods blessed her with a cock instead of a cunt, Brienne would have been right up there in reverence and legends amongst Aemon the Dragon Knight, Barrison the Bold, Author Dayne…  But, and perhaps this was just more selfishness on Jaime’s end, he was glad she hadn’t been born a male, even if it took away her rightful place in the history books. She had been born a woman, and she was all his. 

“And what you said to me… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive or forget it,” she admitted. “But one act of cruelty, a rather monumental bit of cruelty to be sure, doesn’t wash out everything else I feel for you. It doesn’t wash out our history, it doesn’t wash out all the good memories we’ve shared and all the good moments yet to come.”

Jaime stared slack jawed and in awe, as he so often did when he was around her. How could one woman possess so much good in her heart when the world had been nothing but unkind to her? Brienne reached out and laid a hand against his cheek. 

“Does that answer your question?” she asked in that breathy whisper of hers. 

He nodded slowly, turning his face so he could kiss her palm before he placed his hand on her stomach, smiling when she covered it with her own. “How is she today?”

Brienne smiled. She was grateful for the change of topic Jaime could tell, as was he. “She’s fine. I think she’s sleeping. She isn’t moving much right now, thank the Gods.”

“Why thank the Gods?”

“Because as much as I love feeling her move inside me sometimes it’s nice to go a few hours without being kicked in the lungs or bladder.”

Jaime laughed, caressing her swollen stomach. “I’m sure she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“I’m sure of that as well.” Brienne stood up from the bed, using the stand as leverage. “Still isn’t any less painful.”

He leaned back against the headboard as he watched her splash some water on her face and shove a handful of mint leaves into her mouth. His cock stirred beneath the wool blanket as he watched her bend down to retrieve her clothes from hisfloor. Her legs seemed even longer than usual, her ass and hips had grown even more curvy and her breasts had grown several sizes as well, plus seeing her heavy with  _ his _ child… Jaime bit his lip, moaning just loud enough to gain her attention. She raised a pale blonde brow at him. As much as she tried to hide it she couldn’t help the glint of amusement dancing in her blue eyes. “Enjoying the view, Ser?”

“Quite so, My Lady.” His eyes traveled down to her breasts, feasting on them as openly as he pleased before she covered them up with her shirt which was in all actuality just a men’s shirt twice her normal size. “We have to start asking around for a proper wet nurse,” he told her. “I haven’t seen any of the servants with recent child.”

Brienne furrowed her brow as she pulled on her trousers. “Wet nurse?”

“Mmm. We can usually find some in the orphanages too. Do you not have wet nurses in Tarth?” he asked when he saw her shake his head.

“No we do, I was suckled at one as were all my siblings and the rest of my ancestors but I never much liked the practice.” Brienne sat down on the bed and Jaime was delighted to see her smile when she pulled one of her new boots as smooth as silk. “You know WHY highborn women have wet nurses don’t you?”

He shrugged, wrapping his arms behind her and resting his head on her broad shoulder. “Never really thought about it to be quite honest.” Jaime allowed himself a smirk when he remembered both Robert and Tywin shouting a defiant Cersei when she took all three of her children to her breast. His twin told them both, when they were able to make milk and give birth then and only then did they have a right to tell her what was proper regarding her children. “I just know most highborn ladies hire one and it’s quite scandalous if you nurse the babe yourself.” 

“The practice was put in place and continues to this day out of fear that a Lord might not enjoy his wife’s breasts as much after she nurses because they’ll start to sag.” Brienne reached down to pull on her other boot. “When I found that out I swore if I ever married I was not about to not suckle my child just because my husband might not be able to enjoy that part of me.”

Jaime reached around her and dipped his hand into her shirt, cupping one of those said breasts that he couldn’t ever imagine not lusting after. “Well I promise I won’t ever stop enjoying them, no matter if you choose to let her suckle at you or not.” He nuzzled her neck, bringing forth a soft moan when his beard brushed up against her soft flesh. “So if you want to nurse her yourself, that’s fine with me.”

“I’m glad you approve,” Brienne groaned, arching her back and pressing her breast further into his hand. “Granted even without your approval that was going to happen.”

“I’m well aware that I can’t give you permission to do anything, nor would I ever dream of it,” he muttered, continuing his much wanted assault on her chest. Brienne leaned her head back, singing a sweet song of soft moans that was music to Jaime’s ears. “I need to go see to Lady Sansa…”

“No you don’t.” Jaime nibbled at her earlobe. His strong fingers lightly pinched and tugged at her nipple. Her sharp hiss of breath was music to his ears. “You need to undo your shirt while I continue ravishing you.”

“Do I?” she purred, but nonetheless her hands cane up and she began unlacing her recently laced shirt with deft speed.

“You do.” Jaime took his stump and rubbed it between her legs. Brienne bit her lip and rolled her hips at the touch. She tossed her head back, groaning as he assaulted her neck with hot wet kisses while her hands flew to her britches and began unlacing them almost as quick as she had pulled them on. Jaime smirked as Brienne grinded against his stump, thanking the Seven above for making expectant mother’s so wanting. She twisted herself around so she was facing him, draping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply, moaning into his mouth as he rubbed his stump between her legs while his remaining hand grabbed at her breast.

Just as Brienne reached for his hardness there was a soft knock on his door.

The two of them froze their movements. A look of panic dawned on her face.

“Shit!” she hissed as she fumbled to stand up but Jaime reached for her hand and stopped her from her frenzied attempts to make herself scarce.

“Don’t hide,” he begged her, eyes wide and pleading. “Please.”

“Someone’s going to wonder why I’m in your chambers this early.”

“Let them.” Jaime stood and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’m sick of having to hide the fact that I spent the night with the woman I love. I’ve done it before, nearly all of my life and I won’t do it again, not with you.” He kissed her as there was another knock, grinning as she sat back down on his bed and wrapped his blanket around her to preserve some modesty while he pulled on his breeches.

“Besides,” he said as he walked across the room. “It’s probably Dustmagget or Jaehaerys or one of the servants, it’s not like your father or one of his guards is going to be at my door this early.”

“Ser Jaime,” one of Selwyns guards, the one Jaime threatened several weeks earlier, greeted with a curt nod when the lion opened the door.

_ Oh fuck me. _

He heard a soft ‘floosh’ and he knew even without looking behind him that Brienne had pulled the blanket up over her head and was being roasted alive by the stifling heat of her blush that was more than likely overwhelming her entire body.

“Good morning,” said Jaime as cordially as he could given the circumstances, very well aware of the visible marks Brienne had left on him from the previous night. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The knight barely held back a smug grin. “Lord Selwyn apologizes for the early intrusion but he needed an answer in case he needed to make any other plans. The Evenstar was hoping to invite you to sup with him in his chambers this evening.” 

“Oh. That’s very kind of him. Of course, I’d be honored to dine with him.”

The guard glanced over at the lump beneath the woolen blanket, shared a smirk with Jaime who just raised his brow at the knight as if he was daring him to say something. The man instead simply gave a small bow of his head and left.

“He’s going to tell my father,” Brienne moaned once Jaime shut the door again. She pulled off the wool blanket and Jaime almost laughed at the bright red crimson that painted her body from head to toe. “Jaime-.”

“So what if he knows we slept together?” He walked over to the bed and sat down on it. “At this point it’s a bit like being concerned the stable door is open after the horses have run out.”

“We still aren’t married,” she protested. “More to the point he still hasn’t broken off the betrothal to Ser Hayden nor has he given me permission to marry you.”

“Who cares what your father thinks? Or what permission he grants?” He took her face in his hand. “We’re going to be married, Brienne. No matter what your father says, I am yours and you are mine. If he names someone else his heir then House Lannister, YOUR House, will go to war to get it back.”

“I still want his approval,” she told him almost apologetically.

Jaime gave her an amused look. “You’re the most rebellious stubborn women I’ve ever met. I would think that getting your father’s permission or approval for anything-.”

“Is something I still covet, yes.” 

“Then I’ll handle it,” said Jaime, sealing the promise with a kiss. “The betrothal, what the guard saw… I’ll take care of it. I swear it.” 

After that the two of them readied themselves for the day. They broke their fast on blueberries and brown bread and spent the rest of the day assisting in the rebuild, sharing lover’s whispers and secret laugh and when it was time for dinner Jaime headed back to his chambers to ready himself and make himself presentable. He washed and brushed himself, dressed himself in the finest bit of clothes he had available (a plain crimson shirt and black trousers) all the while wishing he still had his wardrobe from before he left Kingslanding or Widows Wail or SOMETHING to make him look like the knight and high lord he was. He was forced to settle on fashioning a small tarnished gilded steel lion ornament he found during the rebuild one day to his breast. 

_ A rugged lion wearing a rusted one _ , Jaime thought bitterly as he attempted to shine the fastening with his shirt and a bit of spit. After he gave it up as a lost cause, he decided to shave as well as he could with one hand and a dull razor and combed his graying hair to make it look halfway decent. 

By the time he finished it was nearing the time he was supposed to meet the Evenstar so he headed towards Selwyns chambers, smoothing out his outfit. He was greeted by the same tall lanky guard who had summoned him this morning standing outside his door. 

“Long night last night, Kingslayer?” he asked, barely holding back a snicker.

Jaime gave him a sharp grin. “That it was. I’m sure you’ll enjoy many a long night yourself soon.”

“Excuse me?”

“You see; I’ve made it my primary mission to keep Ser Brienne from becoming sad or upset. If you tell her father about seeing Brienne and myself… why that would make her sad and upset wouldn’t it? In which case I would have no choice but to tell the Queen that you stole from her which would meaning rather than hold the title of bodyguard for Lord Selwyn while you wear that lovely rose colored armor, you’ll be spending your days atop the Wall all dressed in black.”

The guards pale green eyes went wide and his jaw slacked. “That’s a filthy lie! I never-! Have you no honor?!”

“Not when it comes to keeping Brienne happy I don’t.” Jaime reached out and knocked on the door, danger lurking behind his smug expression. “So if I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut.”

Before the guard could respond Selwyn opened the door, greeting Jaime with a cordial nod of the head and a friendly, “Lannister.” He looked towards his sentry. “Ser Royce, I’m aware you wanted to speak to me all day about something but I’ve been so busy. Is there any chance it can wait until after I’ve hosted Ser Jaime or is too urgent?”

Royce pursed his lips at the lion who was feigning innocent curiosity before he turned back to Selwyn. “Don’t worry about it, M’Lord. Truth be told I’ve forgotten what it was I meant to tell you.”

Selwyn just gave him a curious look before he shrugged and motioned for Jaime to follow him into his chambers. The Kingslayer slapped Royce rather forcefully on the shoulder before he followed Selwyn into his room and shut the door behind them. 

The Evenstars chambers were larger than Jaime’s, a fact that amused the would-be Warden of the West more than insulted. It was also clear that a woman’s touch had been all over the apartment, with curtains quartered rose and azure hanging beside the window, a rug with a crescent moon laying inside a sun laid on the floor and a pleasant aroma of perfumes and scented oils and fragrant candles filled the room. Two tables has been brought up; one of them had two plates piled high with potatoes fried in lard, carrots cooked with brown sugar and cinnamon, a large piece of baked fish covered in herbs and warm brown bread with honey and butter along with a pitcher of clear crisp water flavored with different fruits that sat in the center of the table. Another table was longer and covered with a sheet with small bumps in the middle, making Jaime aware that something was hidden beneath the covering.

The Evenstar was dressed in a handsome velvet doublet quartered rose and azure with a blue silk shirt beneath, leather breeches and midnight black leather boots dotted with stars. He wore Moonbright on his sword belt and the sapphires in it’s hilt gleamed brilliantly in the candlelight. 

“I wanted to thank you for inviting me to dine with you this evening,” Jaime said as he sat down as he and Selwyn sat down at the small feast. “It was an unexpected surprise, to be sure.”

“It’s my way of saying thank you for what you did for Brienne. Did she like her boots?”

“She did, very much so. Thank you for allowing me to send it to you rather than me by the way, if the Queen knew the package was meant for me…”

“I’m aware, that’s why I agreed to help.” He pursed his lips and cleared his throat. “And… the other gift?”

“It was delivered,” was all Jaime said. 

Selwyn gave him a curt nod before he bent his head and folded his hands together.

“We ask the Father to judge us with mercy accepting our human frailty,” Selwyn began as Jaime reached for a bite of fish. The Lion quickly put down his fork and folded his hands, trying to ignore the delectable smells of food wafting towards him. “We ask the Mother to bless the life growing inside Brienne. We ask the Warrior to give us courage in these days of strife and turmoil…”

By the time Selwyn finally asked the Crone to only take them at the end of a long and fulfilling life Jaime was practically salivating but he kept his head bowed and hands folded until the ‘Amen’ left his lips and then he dived headfirst into the plate, smearing a piece of bread with the softened butter.

“Are you a pious man, Ser Jaime?” Selwyn asked as he speared one of the carrots with his fork. Jaime chewed the bread slowly as he thought about the best way to answer. From what Brienne had told him, Selwyn followed the Faith rather closely. He wasn’t a Septon by any means, but he did believe in the Seven Gods and prayed to them nightly and the two of them were in the Sept every Sonsday to pray and ask forgiveness. Jaime could tell him a lie and probably get in good with the man that would determine rather or not he was to marry Brienne but on the other hand… 

“I believe in the Seven and say prayers occasionally, but no, My Lord, I’m not religious at all,” Jaime admitted, figuring if anything, Selwyn would appreciate the honesty.

His instinct had been right and Selwyn nodded politely before he took a sip of the water. “That’s fair. I’ve always followed the Seven but I’ve only prayed, truly prayed from sun up to sun down, nine times.”

“That’s a fairly specific number.”

“Mmm. The three days my children were born, when three of them were taken from me, when Reena was taken from me, when Sansa summoned me to her chambers after the Horselord hurt Brienne and when I received a raven from Lord Bolton’s man saying my offer was too small to ransom her.” Selwyn shook his head in disbelief. “Where that idiot got the idea that I had 150 pounds of sapphires just lying around is beyond me.”

Jaime swallowed a bite of fish. “I um… I’m afraid that was my doing, My Lord.”

Selwyn narrowed his big blue eyes at the lion sitting across from him. “You? Why on earth would they have learned that falsehood from you?”

“Because I told them that Tarth was called the Sapphire Isle because every sapphire was mined there.”

“Why would you say that?” His voice wasn’t accusing or even angry but genuinely curious. “Tarth is called the Sapphire Isle for-.”

“The blue of its water, I know.  I was aware of that when I told them that lie but at the time it was the only thing I could think of to save Brienne, that you would pay her weight in sapphires if you got her back with her honor unbesmirched.” Jaime took another bite of fish. “It was three on one and her hands were tied behind her back, she didn’t stand a chance on her own. If I had known he wouldn’t take whatever you did plan to offer I would have come up with something else though.”

Selwyn’s face fell, his eyes going wide at the tale Jaime told him. “You saved her,” he whispered practically in awe.  A slight blush was brought to Jaime’s cheeks and he lowered his gaze to the plate. He shrugged. “She told me you lost your hand defending her honor but I didn’t- it never crossed my mind that the honor you saved was…”

“Any other man would have done the same,” Jaime muttered. 

“You’ve served with soldiers your whole life, Ser Jaime, you know that’s not true.”

“Fair point but Brienne brings out the best in people. She makes others want to be the best version of themselves, she makes people want to live up to her level of honor and integrity. Whoever she was traveling with, be it me or another man, they would have protected her. That’s the kind of love and loyalty that she inspires.”

A soft smile rose to the Evenstars lips. “It sounds like you’ve put my daughter up on quite the pedestal, Lannister.” 

“She deserves to be up on one,” Jaime answered honestly, taking a bite of carrots. “She’s the only person I know to actually live up to my expectations time and time again.”

Selwyn looked at the man sitting across from him for a long while until he nodded towards his plate. “Are you enjoying the fish?”

Jaime nodded eagerly. “Yes it’s quite delicious.”

“They’re called Sunfish,” Selwyn explained. “They’re indigenous to the Straits of Tarth, it’s the last little bit of them from the cargo that didn’t get burned up in the ship.”

“I am sorry about that,” Jaime told him. “I don’t know much about ships or vessels but I could tell it was a beautiful ship.”

“It was. ‘Galladon’s Dream’, the finest ship Tarth has ever seen,” the Evenstar said, practically bursting with pride. “My son, he absolutely loved sailing,” explained Selwyn. “He was on the deck of a ship before he sat a horse. Gall always said how when he was old enough he wanted to take a boat, a small crew and go sailing around the world.” The smile he wore turned rather melancholy. “I never did have the heart to tell him he was going to be Lord of Tarth when he grew up and wouldn’t have time for all that.”

Jaime returned a sympathetic look, remembering the look of total devastation and the absolute pain that took hold of the Evenstar when he saw the older man at his son’s funeral all those years ago. “Tommen never wanted to be king,” said Jaime. “He wanted to be a ‘true knight’, he wanted to help people, be gallant, virtuous, honorable...”

Selwyn looked over his face for a moment. “So the rumors are true then. I believed them, but there was always a shadow of doubt in my mind that Stannis might have been lying.”

“It’s true.” Jaime watched his expression. “Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella, they were my children, as was the one the Queen was carrying when she died.” 

“Does Brienne know?”

“She does. She knows all of my sins, she knows about me and Cersei, she knows about my fathering the Queens children… Although I suppose that the word ‘fathering’ isn’t technically correct. I sired them but they weren’t Lannister’s, they thought Robert was their father. I wasn’t even allowed to hold them, Cersei was too afraid that someone would figure it out if I acted too affectionate towards them.” The knight knew he was pushing his luck but he had to try. “When Brienne told me she was pregnant, I thought this was a second chance. A fresh start, a way for me to actually step up and be a father to my child.” Jaime allowed himself a smile. “To Joanna.”

Selwyn had his fork lifted halfway to his lips but he lowered it then. “Joanna? That’s the name you decided on?” Jaime was delighted to see the Evenstar’s blue eyes come alive with light and love.

“Brienne choose it. She’s going to be named for my mother. Coincidentally it goes along with the pattern of Tarth women having two N’s in their name.”

“It’s beautiful,” said Selwyn. The Evenstar wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and cleared his throat. “Ser Jaime… there was a reason more than just my offering of thanks that I invited you to dine with me tonight…”

Before he could finish his thought there was another knock on the door. Selwyn stood up from his seat. “A bit early but that’s alright.” 

Jaime watched as he made his way to the door and when he opened it Jaime raised a puzzled brow.

“My Lord,” Hayden greeted him with a low bow. “You summoned me?”

“I did, please, come in.” 

The sentry was dressed in a midnight blue leather tunic and dark rose colored leather breeches with a waxing and waning moon fashioning. His sword belt held the rose colored short sword along with a dagger outfitted with a brilliant blue marble hilt. With his pale green almost blue eyes and head of wavy sandy blonde hair, Hayden looked every bit what the Lord of Tarth was supposed to look like and Jaime found himself resenting his lack of clothing options once more.

He could have showed this guard up half a hundred times had he been allowed to dress in anything more than peasant rags… 

“I don’t believe the two of you have been properly introduced. Set Hayden, this is Ser Jaime of House Lannister,” said Selwyn as he shut the door behind him. “Ser Jaime, this is Ser Hayden Flatsun. He’s the head of my household guard.”

_ And the man you want to marry your daughter.  _

Jaime stood up and put on his best ‘Lannister’ mask, one that told the man who looked upon it that the gazer was a lesser man from a lesser house, and most of all the lion knew it and was not afraid to flaunt it. 

“Ser Jaime,” Hayden greeted with a nod of his head as he held out his hand. When they shook hands Jaime squeezed hard enough that he knew he was causing pain, even if Hayden didn’t flinch, a dangerous smile sharp enough to cut glass on his handsome face.

_ She’s mine,  _ the lion inside him snarled as he stared down the man, refusing to be the first to look away.  _ I don’t care what her father says. She isn’t yours, she’s mine.  _

“Judging by the friendliness that is simply pouring out of Ser Jaime,” Selwyn began, somewhere between amusement and caution as he looked between the two men. “I assume he at least knows what you two have in common. Ser Hayden, do you know why I’ve summoned you both here?”

“I don’t, My Lord, all I know of the Kingslayer is that he’s the father of your daughters bastard,”

“Call my daughter a bastard again and I’ll use that pretty little dagger you’re wearing to cut out your tongue,” he said as calmly as you liked, still holding his deadly smile, a trick he learned from Tyrion. Shouting and snarling warnings was always a good way to get what you wanted but threats coupled with a smile? That was what truly unnerved people. 

“Settle down, Lannister,” Selwyn warned as Hayden shuffled uncomfortably. Jaime didn’t take his eyes away from the sentry. “You’re both here because if Brienne is apt to repeat her mother’s experiences, the babe is like to come early.” Selwyn took a deep breath. “I don’t want my grandchild to be a Waters or a Storm,” he told the men, almost pleading with them to understand. “I don’t want an asterisk by her name if she’s even ever legitimized.”

“She won’t be,” Hayden piped up quickly. “I’ll gladly give the child my name, My Lord.”

_ Joanna won’t be a Flatsun, she’ll be a Lannister. Joanna Lannister, of the Isle Tarth.  _

“I know you will, Ser Hayden,” said Selwyn, “and I believe I know you well enough to know that you would be an honorable lord and you’d carry the title of Evenstar with pride but Brienne has some serious reservations about the betrothal.”

“Rest assured, My Lord, she’ll come to see in time I’ll be a proper husband to her.”

A possessiveness almost overwhelmed Jaime to the point he wanted to launch himself at the man standing before him. He wanted to tell Selwyn about the engagement and let him know that whatever this was was all for naught because Brienne would be Jaime’s wife rather he gave his blessing or not. But if could win her father over some other way, if there was a way to be married not only with his consent but without running off in secret and without Brienne losing her title as Lady of Tarth… 

Selwyn regarded the guard cooly . “Perhaps. But she’s also made it abundantly clear, even if the words remain unspoken, that she would prefer to be with the father of his child. And Ser Jaime, I assume you want to be with her as-.”

“Yes,” Jaime said quickly, desperately, pleading. “Yes, My Lord. I love your daughter, more than anyone else alive. I know I have a world of mistakes to make up for but I will spend the rest of my days trying to prove myself worthy of her.”

“But you can see why I still have my doubts? You may love her more than anyone else but you’ve also broken her heart more times than anyone else, not to mention you have a very unscrupulous past full of sins. Even if the biggest sin is able to be forgiven, you can understand why I’d be wary.”

Jaime nodded. “I understand, My Lord.”

Selwyn glances between the two of them before he made his way over to the table where the sheet was hiding the contents and stood behind it. Hayden and Jaime walked over and stood in front of it, both of them giving puzzled looks to the Evenstar.

“I have two questions for the both of you,” Selwyn said looking between the men. “Then I’ll make my choice and give my consent to whomever I feel has earned my daughter’s heart.”

Selwyn lifted the sheet and on the uncovered table laid a dozen or so roses, all of them different hues and shades, even one dipped in gold and another made of porcelain. Classic red and dark pink, ivory and ebony, bright orange and sunshine yellow and one that was a rare wintery deep blue, almost the same shade of Brienne's eyes. 

Selwyn stood behind the table, his eyes calm and knowing as he spread his hands. 

“It’s simple. Tell me which gift you would present to her.” The Evenstar turned towards his guard, grabbing the hilt of his sword. “Ser Hayden, you first. Which gift would you make of my daughter?”

Hayden pursed his lips as he looked at the long table of roses, seeing to examine each and everyone one, how bright the petals were, how green the stem, how full in bloom it was… After a minute or so he finally looked up from the row of flowers. “While any of these roses couldn’t compare to my Lord daughter’s beauty.” Jaime made no effort to hide the roll of his eyes. “I’m going to go with…” Hayden picked up the yellow rose and held it out to the Evenstar. “Tarth is known as the sapphire isle, our knights are called the sapphire soldiers, our castle is called Evenfall, even the title is the Evenstar. Too many forget we also have yellow colored sunrises as well. This rose would remind her of the forgotten parts of home.”

Hayden nodded slowly before he turned towards Jaime. “Lannister. Same challenge. Which would you give my daughter.”

Without even looking at the other options Jaime went and picked up the wintery blue rose, turning it over in his hand. “I saw Tarth once when I was sailing to Dorne,” he mused. “The waters truly are as blue as they say. Not to mention her eyes would rival even the most beautiful sapphires. This one reminds me of them actually…”

“So you would give my daughter the blue rose?” Selwyn asked him.

Jaime just smirked at the older man before he threw the blue tinted flower to the ground.

“I wouldn’t give her  _ any _ rose, My Lord. No matter how beautiful they are or how poetic a reason behind the choice. Brienne  _ HATES _ roses, more than anything else in this world. That’s why she was able to fight so furiously at the melee at Bitterbridge, Loras fought with roses on his shield. She despises them even more since Renly married a Tyrell rose and she had to be surrounded by the sight of them in his camp.  Although she still refuses to believe her king prefered getting pricked by the thorns to smelling the petals.”

He saw the corners of Selwyns mouth tug upwards Jaime knew he had made the right choice. He nodded to the sapphire laden hilt Selwyn was gripping. “I would, however, gift Brienne her father’s sword and title.”

While Jaime suspected Selwyn knew he was going to refuse the roses, the comment about the sword most definitely threw him off. He watched his big blue eyes grow wide.

“You would grant her the title of Evenstar?” Selwyn breathed.

“I never wanted to rule or be a Lord,” Jaime admitted. “I never wanted titles or lands; the only part of being Lord of the Rock I did enjoy was commanding my armies and getting my men back home safely. Brienne knows Tarth better than I ever could, she deserves the title her ancestors held. She deserves to be Lady of Tarth and she deserves to wield her father’s sword alongside her own.”

He could see Hayden’s face, overwhelmed with first disbelief and then annoyance at himself and then panic and it both angered and sickened Jaime that he knew exactly what the man was thinking; that this was a game that the lion was winning. Jaime was being honest, he was being sincere. Sure he knew Brienne hated roses and that was a rather an easy if almost cheating way to win but he was being true when he said he would give Brienne the title of Evenstar. He didn’t covet it, nor did he deserve it whereas Brienne had earned it, she had been gifted that title by tragic circumstances to be sure but it was still hers. He wasn’t about to take it from her just because of a marriage. 

Selwyn looked at Jaime while he spoke, not taking his eyes away from the lion he once thought dishonorable. “One last question, and then I’ll make my choice as to who will be her Lord Husband.” He finally turned to the determined man standing beside Jaime. “Ser Hayden, you first again. If I allowed you to marry my daughter, would you take her on the first anniversary that you were wed?”

“The training yard!” Hayden almost shouted quickly and almost forceful. “I would take her fighting, I’d spar with her, I- I would let her use your sword, My Lord, which I would also allow her to carry, obviously.”

Selwyn nodded before he turned to Jaime. There was a noticeable shift and change in the air, they could all feel it. The stakes seemed higher almost then when he had asked Hayden. “Ser Jaime, same question,” Selwyn said, locking eyes with the lion. “Your first anniversary, what would you do?”

No one so much as blinked or moved or breathed… even the crickets had gone silent. 

No one, that is, except Jaime, who smiled at the Evenstar. 

“Dancing,” he told the father of the woman he was going to marry. “I would take her dancing.”

Jaime saw him smile, a true genuine smile for the first time since they met and his heart fluttered in his chest. Selwyn grasped Jaime’s shoulder, the two men locking eyes. He swore he heard a thin whisper of tears behind his joy. “Ser Jaime of House Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West; providing my daughter consents to the marriage, I would propose a betrothal between you and Brienne of House and the Isle Tarth, the Heir to Tarth and the next holder of the title Evenstar, done so in the sights of Gods and men. Do you accept this union?”

“I do,” Jaime beamed. “I accept a thousand times over, My Lord.”

“My Lord, wait, this isn’t fair!” Hayden protested adamantly. “You promised me I would be named heir to Tarth either by marriage or you would disown her if she didn’t consent!”

“I told you if Brienne consented to the marriage then you would be Lord of Tarth. She’s protested, vigorously, several times,” Selwyn reminded him.

“You said you would name me Heir to Tarth!”

“And you would have been if Brienne didn’t marry. She’s marrying Ser Jaime.”

The words, finally spoken out loud, filled Jaime’s heart with more glee and more joy than he ever thought he could feel.

“That oathbreaker?! You can’t stand him!”

“I grew on him,” said Jaime with a smug grin. “I tend to do that with this family.”

“Ser Hayden, you’ll still be the head of my guard,” Selwyn promised him. “I’m even willing to name you Castilian here and now.” 

“Oh piss on your guard and your bloody Castilian offer!” Hayden spat. “And piss on your ugly cow of a bitch daughter too!”

Jaime launched himself at the man who would have been his competition but Selwyn pushed the lion back rather furiously, angry eyes locked on Hayden. The large man stormed up to his guard, appearing to take up every inch of space and grabbed him by the shirt, flinging him around and slamming him not only up against the wall but an inch or two off the ground as well. 

Selwyns hands shook with ire. “You are relieved of your duties, Ser,” he snarled. Somehow he managed to hold him up with one hand while he grabbed the rose colored sword and threw it to the ground with the other. He let the knight drop and took a step back, glaring down at him. “The Redkeep is a fairly large castle,” Selwyn barked. “Use its size to hide yourself from me.”

Hayden glowered at his former boss for a long tense moment before he turned on the heel of his boot and storm away. Before he could leave the room though Jaime grabbed hold of his sleeve and wrenched him around to face him. “You say another word against Brienne again,” he hissed. “You ever mock her again, you even so much as scowl in her direction and I will use the whole might of the Lannister force to crush you. Do you understand me?”

Hayden said nothing, just wrenched out of Jaime’s grasp and stormed off. Jaime took a deep breath and turned towards Selwyn who was examining the sword he had confiscated. 

“I gave him all the answers,” Selwyn muttered, not tearing his eyes away from the weapon. “The same night I proposed the betrothal and Brienne rejected him, I told him to try to woo her, I told him not to bring her roses because she can’t stand the sight of them, that she actually ordered the groundskeeper to tear up the rose bushes around Evenfall. I told him that she may not look it but she’s as graceful and light on her feet as any other noble woman, maybe even more so thanks to the footwork she learned in the training yard, and she loves dancing. I told him that was the only thing that makes her feel like a true Lady, and if he wanted to win her over he would take her dancing. Apparently he didn’t listen to me or care about winning her heart.”

“But if he had listened. If he got them right…”

“The offer would have stood,” Selwyn admitted. “Even if he failed the first test and cared more about her Targaryen ancestors then Ser Duncan’s, I gave him two more chances. He never hurt her as much as you’ve made her, Lannister. But there’s something I recognize about you and Brienne; something familiar.”

“What?”

He gifted the one handed knight a sad soft smile. “I see the way you look when you talk about her and you wear that same light in your eyes as I do when I talk about my Reena. I see the way her eyes light up, even when she’s upset at you, a mirror of her mother when she spoke about her affections for me.”

Jaime bit his lip, watching the pain seem to wash over him, as if the mere mention of his wife caused an ache in his heart. He knew he should have stayed silent, he should have not meddled but the way Selwyn spoke about her…

“My Lord, forgive me for the bluntness but… if you love and miss your wife as you say you do...”

He knew what Jaime planned to ask before he could finish. “Why do I lay with a new woman so often?” To his surprise Selwyn didn’t look angry, but rather just looked sad. The Evenstar walked back to his seat and sat, blue eyes cast to the ground. “Have you ever ft so empty inside that you just needed to feel… something? Even if you knew it was wrong?”

“Yes,” Jaime admitted, thinking of his short haired twin and her sinful smile. “I have.”

“When Reena died; it was as if all the stars in the sky went dark all at once,” he admitted with a shake in his boom of a voice. “The sun’s warmth was taken from me and all of the moon's beauty was gone from my life. For ten years I had my entire world on my arm. She was tall, with blonde hair, pale blue eyes like ice, and she was beautiful and kind and… and she was my everything. But the Gods only saw fit for us to be happy for ten years before they took her away from me.

These girls I take to bed, as young and beautiful as they are, as attentive, as kind, as loving… They’re not her. They’re not Reena.  Nothing will ever replace her but all I’m trying to do is feel something, Lannister. I’m trying to feel something so I don’t just float away because just like what Brienne is to you, Reena was the thing keeping me anchored to this earth and she’s gone now.”

Selwyn took a deep breath and looked deep into Jaime’s eyes, sapphires and emeralds both damp with tears. “Ten years can be over in a blink of an eye, Lannister. Don’t waste them.”

Jaime left soon after that, making his way towards Brienne's chambers. When he saw her face, her scarred plain pale face he wanted to weep for joy. How could he have ever left this woman, this beautiful kind loving woman? How could he have walked away from her? How could he have been so selfish as to bring her to tears? How could he have given up the sun’s warmth or the moons beauty? 

How could he have cut his anchor?

Jaime wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her neck, inhaling her beautiful familiar scent. Nothing had ever smelled as sweet.

“What’s happened?” she asked in a voice as gentle as silk after she returned the embrace. “Jaime, what’s wrong?” 

“I’m so happy I’m yours,” he whispered, stroking her soft blonde hair. “I’m yours, and you are mine.” He took a deep breath and pulled away so he might have the honor of looking upon her face. “From this day, until the end of my days.”

“Jaime, what’s going on?” she asked again. “Did something happen with my father?”

He nodded. “It did. It did and Brienne...” A smile as wide and large as the Wall itself broke out on his face. “He betrothed me to you.”

“What?” she breathed, barely able to believe it. “It… he-...”

Jaime nodded. “He didn’t just give us his blessing, he betrothed me to you, legally. If you will have me, then we are to be married with your father’s full support.”

The cry of joy she let out was music to the Kingslayer ears and when she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, nothing had ever tasted as sweet, no sun had ever shone so bright, no moon had ever looked as beautiful, and no anchor had ever held on as strong…

  
  


Please Review! 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve actually been looking forward for this chapter for a while. So much so that I’ve been writing this chapter in between the others because I was so eager to write it (which is why the update came so soon). It’s a little something different so I hope you enjoy it.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know the rose story.”

“Will you shut your mouth?”

“Everyone on Tarth knows the rose story.”

“Listen, Bastard-!”

“Forget Tarth, I’m pretty sure all of the Stormlands knows the rose story.”

Aileen’s honey brown eyes danced with amusement as she watched Hayden stand up from his chair and stomp around his chambers. They were servants quarters, bare bones with little pomp or circumstance with only a stand, a chest at the foot of a straw filled mattress, and a chair that she was currently occupying. Hayden’s rose colored armor now dented which would have been hung up normally was kicked angrily into a corner and the marble dagger had been thrown against a wall, its midnight blue hilt cracked.

She took a slow sip of the sour Dornish wine. “I still can’t believe you cursed her out right in front of her father. I mean there’s idiocy and then there’s that.”

“I didn’t mean too! It’s just… it’s not fair!” Hayden whined and Aileen had a feeling he was holding back a stomp of the foot. The image of the petty guard stomping his foot like a toddler made her want to laugh. “The old man promised me Tarth by one way or the other and then he tells me I lost it just because I didn’t bother to remember the great ugly bitch likes to dance?”

Aileen shrugged. “You should have taken his suggestion when he first told you to woo her. Hells, she fell in love with Renly just because he called her ‘My Lady’ and kissed her hand once and managed to do so without flinching. Ugly women are desperate for attention so if you had said even a handful of kind words the cow probably would have gotten to her knees right then.” She rolled her eyes. “Gods only know what the Kingslayer said to her to get her that infatuated with him. Probably left half a bloody candle burning when he fucked her rather then blow it out like he wanted to,” she grumbled, taking another sip of her wine.

Hayden turned to glare at her. “Jealousy is an ugly color on you.”

She scoffed. Her? Jealous? Of that hideous beast? Just because she somehow tricked a handsome Lord into bed? The notion was positively absurd.

“I assure I am not jealous of _Brienne the Beauty_ ,” Aileen sneered.

Jealous. What an idiotic thing to say. Aileen was the most beautiful woman on the island, everyone had said so. If she had been born a highborn Lady rather than the bastard offspring of a drunk fisherman and a kitchen wench she would have been one of the most coveted women in all Seven Kingdoms, on par with and even surpassing Sansa Stark or Marjorie Tyrell. She would have even given the Light of the West Cersei Lannister a run for her money.

What in the world would make him think Aileen was jealous of Brienne? She was uglier than sin and massively tall and broad to boot. The only thing remotely attractive about her were her eyes, a gift that wasn’t even hers alone but stretched back to when the Evenstars were kings. ‘The most beautiful eyes in the Stormlands’ it was said of the Tarths, ‘eyes as calm and pretty as their seas’, and Aileen always rolled her own, far superior, honey brown eyes to the heavens when she heard that, not believing it for an instant. Brown eyes were the most gorgeous color of eyes, everyone had said so, and she believed it too until the day came when she looked up and saw pools of sapphires that should have been too astonishing to even exist looking down at her.  

“I am not jealous of that ugly cow,” she protested again. “And don’t get mad at me, I’m not the one who lost a chance of a Lordship because I couldn’t remember Brienne hates roses and then lost my cushy position because I couldn’t hold my temper.”

He glowered at her. “No but you are the bastard whore that spent hours spilling tears and snot into her wine cup because you found out our Lord had no plans to marry you.”

The mood change was as sudden and abrupt as a gust of wind. Aileen glared at the man standing before her. “Don’t call me a whore,” she warned him sharply, any amusement in her tone long gone.

Everyone expected her to run to the pleasure houses when she was orphaned at fifteen; a young beautiful curvy girl like her could make a lot of money very quickly after all, and all the brothel keepers in Tarth and even one from Stormsend offered employment with promises of more gold then she had ever seen but she turned all of them down. Aileen would not sell her body for gold, no matter how hard-off she was; not now, not ever. She begged in the streets, sleeping under tattered rags on the beach, she sold what little possessions her mother had left her, but no matter how hard her life had gotten, not once did she take up an offer from any man who offered her a roof and a meal if she would spread her legs for them. Eventually she found work as a serving girl in a tavern in Sunrise, the sea-side city just outside of Evenfall where the great white marble castle was always gleaming bright and beautiful off in the distance, her days full of serving handsy drunks food and ale, forced to give men coy smiles whenever they grabbed at her, no matter how much she hated it.

 _No one goes inside me,_ she told herself night after night as collected her coopers, telling herself this was different, no matter how many times tears filled her eyes after a particularly raunchy shift. _I’m letting them touch me with their hands over my clothes but no other part of them goes near me, their skin doesn’t touch mine… I’m not a whore, I’m not!_

“Besides,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her protests. “I’m not losing my title.”

“If Brienne is marrying the Kingslayer then he’s the next Lord of Tarth and the bastard she’s carrying will be Lord after him. How is that not losing your title?”

“Because Daenerys is going to give me Tarth.”

Aileen furrowed her brow in confusion. “Why do you figure she’ll do that?”

A dangerous glint shone in his eyes and his lips curled into a sneer. “Because when I tell the Queen that the Kingslayer and Lord Selwyn were conspiring to murder her behind her back, she’ll have to find some way to reward me. I can think of no greater reward than a Lordship over Tarth.”

Aileen’s jaw dropped. Her brown eyes went wide with shock. No… no, he couldn’t do that… Daenerys would… “Hayden, she’ll kill him if you tell her that,” she protested, her words flavored heavily with fear.

“So?”

“So you-... you can’t tell her that. Not to mention you don’t think the Queen is going to check in on this little lie of yours? When she finds out you’re spreading falsehoods just to get back at Selwyn-.”

“Who said it was a lie? Tarth, Lannister, Jon Snow and I were all there in the room when the Kingslayer said he planned to stab the Queen in the back and told the wolf, and I quote, he was ‘more than happy to live up to his nickname’ and he wanted to ‘get that fire loving murderer off the throne just like I got rid of her father’.”

“Even if that is the truth the Kingslayer said those things, Lord Selwyn didn’t!” she cried, her voice right and high with panic. She ignored his snickering and fought to keep her anxiety in check. “Selwyn did nothing wrong!”

“Quite right, he _did_ _nothing_. He just stood there and not only allowed the Kingslayer to threaten her but then he went and betrothed him as his heir? Keeping him in power? She’ll lock both of them up, the ugly bitch will try to fight for them, the Queen will either throw her in the dungeon alongside them or she’ll die in the attempt. Either way; Tarth is mine. And… if you were to come with me and tell her any treasonous pillow talk…”

Her heart was pounding against her ribs so hard she was sure the bones would crack. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t tell the Queen, she would kill the Evenstar, she knew she would. She may have hated the daughter, she may have despised the fact the ugly wench had the fortune and luck to be highborn when Brienne didn’t even want to rule, but she was PREGNANT. Not to mention Selwyn already lost three of his children including his first born son and heir. He wouldn’t be able to handle losing a fourth and his grandchild in one fell swoop.

“Why on earth would I ever consider helping you betray him?” she asked him sharply. “I should go and tell the Evenstar you’re planning this, he’ll have your head thrown into the Blackwater before you can even blink!”

Hayden strutted over to her and Aileen rolled her eyes, looking at the stone floor when he walked behind her and rested his head on her shoulder.

“I need a Lady of Tarth by my side,” Hayden whispered in her ear. She flinched away from his warm breath. “Once I get Lannister, the freak show and her father out of the way, I’ll be the new Evenstar and you… you could be my Lady. I could fuck a son into you, and we could have a dynasty all our own.”

He laid a soft kiss on the crook of her sweet scented neck and when his hands went to her waist she twisted out of his grasp. Her sharp glare earned a laugh and her anger grew ten-fold. “If you EVER presume to touch me again-!”

“You’ll what?” Hayden sneered. “You’ll tell your lover? You really think he’ll care?” Hayden leaned in close and Aileen forced herself to stand tall. “You’re no different than the rest of the whores he brings into his bed. He doesn’t love you anymore then he loved them.” The guard reached out to stroke her face only to have her slap his hand away while he laughed. “You wanna be the Lady of Tarth, you’re better off ditching the old man and aligning with me.”

“I would rather hang myself than suffer a moment of you inside me! And he would care!”

Selwyn would. She knew he would. He DID love her, even if he had never said the words. She was different then the rest of those other women he brought into his bed, she knew she was, everyone had said so. Aileen was more beautiful, more Ladylike, more than he could have ever dreamed of.

She could be his anchor, just like Reena had been.

“You pretty little idiot,” he sighed, words overflowing with mock sympathy that flamed her ire. “He’s had over twenty five women, all prettier than the last, all of them falling in love with him, all of them convinced he would love them back… and all of them end up with broken hearts and all guard escorting them out of the castle when he gets bored.” Hayden reached out to stroke her face only this time when she turned away he grabbed her cheeks and forced her to look at him. “It’s going to happen, Aileen. I’m telling the Queen tonight.” His fingers dig painfully into her face. “You can either come with me and offer whatever pillow talk he’s shared with you to help stack a case against him, or you can be thrown out into the streets right back where he found you.”

She wrenched out of his grasp, glaring daggers at him.  Offering nothing but an icy look Aileen turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

As she made her way back to her chambers she hated how much her mind was whirling with doubts and fear not only for the Evenstars life but for her own new life as well. He treated her so well. She went from a one room hovel in Sunrise to a Lord's chambers in a castle, from owning just two plain brown dresses to possessing countless gowns that cost more than what she used to make in a month, from being alone to being with a man she loved. And yet. And yet… He had never said the words. Not once. He already made it known that he had no plans to include Aileen or any children she might have with him in the line of succession. She knew her time with him was running short, she could feel it. Aileen would be back in her miserable shack, she would be back to being forced to give disgusting drunk men sweet smiles when they accosted her rather than have servants cater to her every whim.

Aileen couldn’t go back to that life. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t. If the Evenstar could just prove he loved her, if he could just say the words she dreamt about him saying to her…

She gave a courteous nod of her head to his guards, as was standard for the Lady of Tarth, which she _was_ , everyone had said so, even if that creature forbid her the use of the title, and walked into their chambers. The tables he had brought up for his dinner with the Kingslayer and his rose challenge had been cleared away and he was at his desk with his head bowed over a raven scroll, large calloused hand writing something on the parchment. Selwyn didn’t look up as she shut the door behind her.

“Where have you been?”

“Just out exploring the castle.” She walked over to him, wrapping her small and slender arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder. “Everyday there’s something new to discover.”

Selwyn barely acknowledged her as he held a small block of blue colored wax over a candle. Aileen watched as he applied his seal to a letter, a crescent moon inside a sun. “Who are you writing?”

“My castellan.”

“Why?”

“Just checking in on Lord Hugh, see how everything’s going.”

She nodded. “Are you going to tell him we’re going to have an oath breaker as our next Evenstar?”

Selwyn didn’t take the bait.

“Hopefully neither Ser Jaime nor Brienne will rule for a great long while.”

“And if Lord Tyrion dies? If two single heirs are married the man’s House gets priority. Tarth won’t have a Lord if Brienne is living out in Casterly Rock.”

He stopped the quill bottle back up. “I’m quite aware of how the laws of inheritance work.”

“Then you should know how risky it is putting all your eggs in a basket that’s rather up there in age because her first son will rule Casterly Rock after the Imp and who knows if she’ll have another one after that to be Lord of Tarth.”

“My daughter is thirty three years of age, she still has a few years to have more children.”

_She can if the Kingslayer can stomach fucking her again so more than like this’ll be her only brat._

Selwyn turned in his chair to look at her. “Why are you so worried about who’s Lord of Tarth after me anyway?”

Aileen shrugged and started to walk away only to have him grab her hand. She turned back to face him, hating how those deep blue eyes seemed to stare straight into the most secretive part of her. Selwyn stood up from his chair and she had to crane her neck up to look at him.

Gods he was tall. Tall and handsome and strong and commanding and powerful… His age was an insignificance that she cared less about, the fact she was another woman in a long line of paramours was something she shrugged off. She didn’t care about the whispers or snickers she heard and she certainly didn’t care about his ugly cow of a daughter’s opinion. Aileen loved him and she knew, _she knew_ , he loved her in return.

He just had to say the words.

Selwyn placed his hands on her waist. His hands were so large and her waist so slender his fingers almost touched. His blue eyes searched over her comely face, reading her as well as a book. “Something’s vexing you.”

“I’m fine,” she told him.

_Apart from Hayden asking me to betray you and the fact that you, your daughter and grandchild might die by dragon fire everything's fine._

She reached up and draping her arms around his thick neck. “I just have a lot on my mind at the moment, My Lord.”

Selwyn pulled her in close. “Is there anything in particular you care to talk about?”

“I don’t want to talk,” Aileen whispered. She gazed at him through long lashes the way she knew he liked. “I just want you.”

She pulled his head down and captured his lips in a kiss. Selwyn ran his hands, larger and stronger than any that had ever felt but gentler than all the rest, through her soft brown hair and then slowly made their way down to her ass, groping her for a bit before he lifted her up as easily as if she were made of wind. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her fingers buried themselves in his hair, more white than blonde, as he carried her to the bed and laid her down on the soft furs. Aileen moaned softly as he kissed her gently behind her ear, inhaling the scent of her, expensive, flowery perfume that she wore for him.

“Selwyn,” she sighed while his hands ran over her curves as light as a summer rain. Her own hands, dainty and soft for a lowborn girl, everyone had said so, gathered his tunic and pulled it from his breeches and up over his head. His chest was strong, powerful and large not from fat but muscles that his age hadn’t taken away from him just yet. He was even stronger and larger than the Kingslayer.

Battle scars from past wars and fights with Lysene pirates that often tried to raid the Sapphire Isle lined his pale flesh. One time Aileen spent her night kissing the marks and asking for the story behind each one until she found a small curved one high on his inner thigh. Selwyn hadn’t been much into talking about war stories after her lips found that one.

“Aileen,” he groaned in that deep highborn accent of his as he cupped her breast in his large hand while they kissed. “Aileen. My shining star...”

 _How many other women has he called that?_ a voice, Hayden’s voice, sneered inside her head but she shook it away. She couldn’t think about that tonight was just about the two of them. Tonight she had to get him to say the words…

“My Lord,” she moaned, arching her back and pulling him tight against her so that she might feel the weight of him on top of her. She rolled her hips, feeling the hardness of him through the silk gown she wore, the one he gave her right before they came to Kingslanding. He pulled off the dress and sapphire eyes drank in her beautiful form, feminine and glorious and would have made the Maid herself jealous. Yes she fared a bit on the shorter side, standing at five foot and four inches but men preferred women on the shorter side, everyone had said so. So what if her legs weren’t obscenely long like that ugly cows were? So what if one or two men in the ale house she worked at talked about how Brienne's legs could go on for days and that they’d be more than willing to look past the rest of her ugliness if they could just get those legs wrapped around them for a night? Most men liked shorter legs, legs like Aileen’s, everyone had said so.

Their kisses were more heated now, tongues slides and moved over one another and while Aileen was undoing his breeches, Selwyns was dancing between her legs, calling fourth gasps and whimpers when long thick calloused fingers pushed inside her.  Her sharp nails dug into him as he twisted and curled his fingers inside her and she threw her head back, crying out his name as he pulled out to rub his well practiced fingers against her clit. She reached for his hardness and stroked, his grunts and moaning her name music to her ears.

 _He loves me,_ she told herself as she stroked, pre cum moistening her hand. _I know he does. He just has to say it…_

Aileen pulled his hand away from between her legs and sucked her sweetness from his fingers while his other hand guided himself inside her. She gasped, moaning as he pushed himself inside her tight warmth. He was large, and thick, and filled her to the point it was almost painful and she loved every inch of him as much as she did the first time he took her in his chambers at Evenfall.  She moaned as she pushed her hips up to meet his thrusts, throwing her head back. His strokes were long and deep and powerful, slow and first and then he was moving into her faster and faster. Their kisses were hot and wet and his tongue moved in time with his hips, tasting her, and when he pulled away she stared deep into darkened pools of sapphires.

_Please say it. Please. Please, My Lord..._

When she was close, his fingers went between them and rubbed at her swollen clit until she came, arching her back and crying out his name for all to hear, not caring a single hint about the guards standing outside his door, with Selwyn following soon after, gasping her name and letting out a shudder as his seed spilled inside her. She knew her womb wouldn’t quicken though, not with the moon tea he made her drink.

 _Our sons would be handsome and gallant and our daughters would be beautiful and soft,_ she thought to herself every month as she forced the bitter brew down her throat. _They wouldn’t be like that monstrosity you’re stuck with as an heir now. Please let me give you the chance to have normalcy._

Aileen held him close as he softened inside her, stroking his hair until he rolled off her, both of them panting and trying to catch their breath. When they both settled down some, Aileen wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his chest, nuzzling as close to him as she could go as he pulled the furs over top of them and his strong arm wound itself around her waist.

 _Please say it_ . _Please. You have to, My Lord, my evening star, you have to._

One night at work it had been particularly rough. She couldn’t take a step without getting her ass grabbed, her chest felt up and one of the men even pulled her into his lap and he put her hand on his hardness, and she had to take it all with a smile and a laugh. So when a man cornered her on her way home and demanded the money she made that night, she told him no. She earned this money with sweat and tears and she wasn’t about to let it go. The robber pulled out a knife and told her she was going to give up her money or her life. Just as she was about to hand over her hard earned pay a horse whinnied, the song of sharp metal being unsheathed from a scabbard was sung and a large commanding voice, louder than she had ever heard before, yelled for the robber to leave her be.The thief tried to run, knocking over Aileen as he did, but was quickly stopped by the knights who flanked the horseman and afterwards he was dragged off to the dungeons beneath the grand marble castle.

“Are you alright?” her hero asked her when they were alone, his voice now as soft as a cloud. Aileen looked up and saw him; large and strong and taller than any man she had ever seen, sitting astride a great white stallion, his blue eyes more beautiful than anything she had ever seen before.

As luck would have it, he had ridden into town to look for a new companion and was riding back to his home when he spotted Aileen. He offered her the warmth and safety of Evenfall, just for the night, with a guard posted outside her door to make sure no man would steal into her room and try anything. The days that followed there was always a hint of flirt beneath her words and a glint of wanting in his eyes that all men had when they looked at her but he was different then most men. Selwyn wasn’t inappropriate, he wasn’t bawdy, he wasn’t anything but a perfect Lord and gentleman. He even called ‘My Lady’ once, a title no one had ever called the tavern wench and bastard. That was the night she visited his chambers for the first time and the Evenstar took ownership of her maidenhood and her heart in one fell swoop

She had been by his side ever since.

He ran his fingers up and down her back as she clung to him. Selwyn was so broad and big that Aileens arms barely fit around him but that didn’t matter. He loved her. She knew he did. Her words were soft as silk, as light as a butterfly’s kiss.

“I love you,” Aileen whispered, pouring all of her heart, all of her desires, all of her truth into the three words she had yearned to hear more than any others.

 _Please say it. Please. Please, Selwyn, please, I know you feel the same as I do._ _Say ‘I love you’. Say ‘I love you’. I love you, I love you, I love you._

His fingers stilled and Aileen waited one second, then another, then another and another, each one longer then the other and each one lasting a lifetime.

_Please say it. Say the words. Please. I love you. Say the words and we can be happy, we can be safe..._

“Thank you,” Selwyn finally settled on, sounding almost ashamed of the response.

Aileen closed her eyes as tears leaked out and fell slowly down her face. She sat up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before she climbed out of the bed. He sat up, reaching out and grabbing hold of her hand. She turned to look at him, brown eyes wet with tears.

“If I could put a cloak around your shoulders I would,” he told her apologetically. “If I could give you a son I would.”

Aileen looked at him for a moment before she bent down and pressed her lips to his brow. “I know.”

She pulled back on her dress, her fingers running over the embroiled yellow sun on the rose colored fabric. “I’m going to go for a walk.”

“Of course.”

When Aileen reached the door she turned to look back at him for a moment that wouldn’t ever be long enough, tears filling her brown eyes.

_I’m sorry._

She shut the door behind her and made her way slowly towards the dragon queens chambers. She was doing the right thing. She knew it. She would be kicked out of his life, she would be back on the streets, she would go back to that dreadful tavern while he took another girl to bed and eventually that beast and her oathbreaker lover would rule over her… That would not happen. That could not happen.

 _I’m doing the right thing_ , she told herself as she explained to the Unsullied guards standing outside her door what she was doing there.

 _I’m doing the right thing_ , she thought to herself when they opened the chamber door and she walked inside to find Ser Hayden there.

 _I’m doing the right thing,_ she told herself when she told Daenerys about Selwyn calling the blonde queen mad and a butcher and how he said he would never honor the vow that Brienne made in her father’s place, and that he had conspired with Jaime Lannister to get a secret package into Kingslanding.

 _I’m doing the right thing,_ she told herself as she watched Hayden tell the Queen about the treason Jaime said and how the Evenstar had stood-by silent, not defending the queen.

 _I’m doing the right thing,_ she told herself when Jon Snow was summoned and he confirmed the truth of what Hayden said, looking down at the ground all the while.

 _I’m doing the right thing_. Everyone would say so.

Aileen watched the Queens violet eyes go from impassive to so full of trembling rage that it frightened the former tavern wench. She could see Daenerys fight to keep her voice impassive and regal and even then it shook dangerously. “I thank you for these truths. Ask what you will of me and if it is within my power to grant it to you I will.”

Hayden dropped to his knee first. “If it please Your Grace, I’m sure you’re aware that as a traitor Lord Selwyn cannot remain Lord of Tarth and the Evenstar, nor could his daughter who is to be the wife of another traitor, and her child will be born of traitors seed. I ask that you give me a Lordship and dominion and control of all the Tarth lands and titles as repayment for my honor and integrity. I will swear Tarths fealty to you and my sons and their sons will swear fealty to yours.”

The Queen pursed her lips for a moment before she gave a curt nod. “It is done. Ser Hayden Flatsun, you are now the Lord of Tarth and hold the title of Evenstar. Selwyn of Tarth and Brienne of Tarth as well as any child inside her womb is hereby stripped of all lands, titles and holdings and are-so transferred for you and your sons and their sons to hold now, and forever.”

The newly made Evenstar beamed large and wide and bowed so low his head touched the floor. “Thank you, Your Grace. Tarth belongs to House Targaryen now, and forever.”

Daenerys turned towards Aileen who shakily made her way to her knees. She only wanted one thing, and she prayed it would be as easy as Hayden had made it seem.

“If it please Your Grace. I would ask for a bag of gold to start my life anew. Also, I would ask that Lord Selwyn-.”

“He’s just Selwyn now,” Hayden interrupted with a smirk.

Aileen has to hide a roll of her eyes. “I ask that Selwyn of Tarth is spared the executioner's block,” she begged. Her words were overflowing with pleas of mercy. “Please don’t kill him. Lock him away, send him to the Wall, just… please. Please don’t kill him.”

She saw Hayden roll his eyes but she kept hers locked on the Queen. She was the most beautiful and terrifying woman she had ever seen.

“Why should I spare a traitor?”

“Because I love him,” Aileen told her simply. “I wish I could give a better answer but I can’t. I love him and don’t wish to see him killed. Please.”

A glimpse of pity flashed beneath the anger. “I will spare Lord Selwyns life,” Daenerys promised.

Aileen let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and bowed her head, a grateful smile on her lips. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Daenerys gave a curt nod and stood up, conversing with the tall Unsullied guard to her right in Valerian, Greyworm, Aileen thought she heard someone call him once, who gave a curt nod and headed out of the room with the rest of the Unsullied and Dothraki guards. When they were alone both Hayden and Aileen stood from the ground, the new Lord smirking and the bastard looking pale. “I’m the Lord of Tarth now,” he told her, pale green eyes looking over her.

 _You don’t deserve that title_ , she thought to herself as he walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She pushed against his chest but he remained steadfast. “Are you going to be a good little whore and spread your legs for the new Evenstar too?”

Aileen slapped him, hard, gifting him an impossibly sharp glare as he laughed at her but he let go of her and allowed her to leave the queens chambers, panic and dread settling in her chest.

 _I just ruined everything_ , she thought to herself as she walked along the long corridor to a tower where she could sit on the roof and see the stars and remind herself of the nights when Selwyn would point out and teach her the different constellations after they made love _._

 _I just ruined everything_. Everyone would say so.

 

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	26. Chapter 26

“To the future Lady of the Rock! May you… Lady the Rock… very efficiency! Effectively! Efficiently!”

Brienne caught Jaime’s amused eye and the corners of their lips twitched upwards as Tyrion gave yet another toast to the newly betrothed couple, the short proclamations growing more entertaining as the night wore on and the wine in the younger lion’s glass was emptied and refilled time and again.

Night had fallen and Brienne, the Lannister brothers, Sansa and Pod gathered in her-  _ their _ chambers, she reminded herself with a grin, to celebrate the news of the engagement with a sweet Arbor red for the others and milk sweetened with honey and a small bowl of blueberries for the blonde knight. Despite Brienne telling him he was only allowed a half cup, Pod’s goblet never seemed to empty either  and he was spending the little gathering sitting close to Sansa, occasionally whispering in her ear. Sansa, ivory white face tinted red from the wine, would actually  _ giggle _ and then return the whisper to the squire who grinned widely everytime.

For the first time since Brienne spotted her in Kingslanding when she brought Jaime back a lifetime ago Sansa looked the girl she never got the chance to be, giggling and sharing whispers with a handsome boy her age, a brave boy, a kind and decent boy. 

A knightly boy.

Brienne looked at the young man who had been her faithful squire, who offered her a hand in marriage solely to protect her honor and was one of the few people in her life to never judge her or mock her. Pod was always attentive when she taught him something rather it be fighting or riding or how to live out om the road, he never assumed to know more than Brienne simply because she was a woman and he stayed by her side where others would have laughed at the idea of a tall ugly woman on a traditional knightly quest.  

_ Any knight can make another knight so why couldn’t I knight Pod? _ She smiled as she took a sip of her drink. Yes; he deserved a knighthood and Brienne would be the one to do it. Before she left for Tarth Podrick Payne would become a knight, and Brienne would be the one to give him that gift.

Tyrion took drank deeply from his chalice. “Are you planning to be wed before or after the little kitten’s here?”

“After,” Brienne answered. “I don’t really want to walk down the aisle heavy with child, not to mention the gown would look-.”

“You’re wearing a gown?” interrupted Tyrion.

“To my own wedding? Of course I am, why wouldn’t I?”

“Meaning no offense, My Lady,” he slurred. “But you don’t exactly conjure the image of a dainty Southern bride dressed in silks and satin.”

Her face burned red with blush. The Lord had been friendly enough during his first few drinks, he was beyond ecstatic when he heard the news of the betrothal but the more he drank… The first time she had seen him inebriated it ended with her humiliation when he reminded the group she was past thirty and still maiden, and now it appeared he was hellbent on embarrassing her again.

“That’s enough wine for tonight,” Jaime said sharply, snatching the goblet out of his brothers hand when it was halfway to his lips.

Tyrion looked at his hand as if he wasn’t quite sure how he allowed it to become empty before he hopped down from the chair he brought in specifically to join them, ignoring a scowling Jaime. “My Lord, My Lady… it appears I have run out of wine.”

“It appears you have,” growled Jaime. “You should go find some more.”

With a low bow and a slight stagger, Tyrion left the room leaving an awkward silence in his wake. Sansa was the first one to break it by sending a rare smile across the table to her sworn shield. “I’m happy for you, Brienne. Truly.”

She willed the crimson Tyrion brought on away from her cheeks. “Thank you, My Lady.”

“It’ll be nice to finally attend a Lannister wedding knowing it won’t end in misery.” She took a slow sip of her wine, wolf eyes catching the lion’s. “Of course the last Lannister event I went to did have its moments.”

Brienne felt Jaime stiffen beside her. She wasn’t about to begrudge Sansa her grudge against the Lannister’s but at the same time Joffrey was Jaime’s first son. Even if he was never allowed to be a father to the king, it still had to hurt to hear others talk about his death so casually. Brienne reached under the table and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Would you be moving to Tarth or Casterly Rock?” asked Pod in a much appreciated effort to try to defuse the sudden tension.

“Tarth,” Jaime told the squire, tearing his eyes away from Sansa. “We’ll be going to Tarth.”

Sansa furrowed her brow. “You won’t be taking the Rock?”

“Never wanted it.” He shrugged. “Tyrion’s welcome to it and if he doesn’t remarry it’ll go to our son.”

“Son?” Pod looked better the two knights. “I thought you said you were having a girl?”

“Believe it or not you are allowed to have more than one,” said Jaime. “I plan to have quite a few, in fact, if my wife is willing to have me.”

Brienne failed spectacularly in fighting against the grin her lips curled into. She always imagined if she did marry, her lord husband would only be able to stomach laying with her as many times as it took to get a son into her and then he would more than likely stop, and she wouldn’t have blamed him either. But hearing Jaime talk about wanting more than one child and not just for the sake of heirship… It warmed her heart in a way she hadn’t even thought about before.

“She is.” 

The blood that raced to her cheeks was warm as she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, reminding herself how much he enjoyed the small public moments like a peck on the cheek or a simple hand hold that was commonplace with other couples but things he never got to share with his former lover. His green eyes came alive with a soft light. Even Sansa couldn’t deny the romance of the moment and she moved her chair an inch or two closer to Pods. “How many do you plan to have, Ser Jaime?”

Jaime turned to Brienne and shrugged. “Twelve?”

“Twelve?!” she cried, blue eyes wide.

Jaime snickered at what was sure to be a look of absolute horror on Brienne's face. “I’m open to a compromise, My Lady.”

“You best be open to a compromise unless you plan on carrying half that litter yourself, Ser,” she told him aghast, drawing forth a loud laugh from her knight. 

Jaime pursed his lips for a moment. “How’s... four sound instead?”

She let the number roll around in her head for a moment. Jaime wanted four children. Four little Lannisters, four little lion cubs, four lives she would grow and nurture inside her, four babes she would love from the moment his seed quickened her womb. She pictured two sweet and graceful daughters and two strong and gallant sons, and if the Mother was kind She would bless them all with Lannister features with hardly any Tarth to speak of.

Brienne gifted him a warm smile, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. “I think four sounds perfect,” she whispered in a voice that was as soft as Myrish lace. 

Sansas eyes smiled as they flickered between the two knights before she drained the rest of her glass and stood. Pod fumbled to his feet a moment after. “Congratulations again. If you don’t mind though, I’m going to head to bed.”

“Of course, My Lady. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The tall wolf glanced at Pod and drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “Walk me to my chambers?”

“A moment, Podrick?” said Brienne quickly as she watched her squires brown eyes light up. Sansa gave a small nod before she left the room and stood just outside the door. The tall knight groaned as she stood up with the assistance of Jaime and walked over to her squire, lowering her voice so the woman outside couldn’t hear.

“Be a gentleman.” An order, not a request.

“Yes, My Lady.”

“A  _ perfect _ gentleman,” she added, raising a pale eyebrow. “One of two people the Queen hates most in this world is going to have a child in three months, Gods know what’ll happen if the second is put in the same situation.”

A faint blush rose to his cheeks. “Yes, My Lady. Do I have your leave to go?”

Brienne sighed, rubbing her temples and already regretting her decision to give him the go ahead.  “Don’t disappoint me, Podrick.”

He beamed at the blonde before he hurried from the room, shutting the door behind him.

Before Brienne could turn around she felt two arms wrap around her from behind and gently caress the growing bump where a flat stomach once was. She put her hands overtop his hand and stump, letting him sway her gently. “Podrick Payne, Possible Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North,” Jaime mused. “Never thought I’d hear myself saying that.”

Brienne stared at the door where the young couple disappeared. “Do you think I erred by allowing him to pursue her?”

“Normally I would say yes,” he answered truthfully. “Young people in Florian and Jonquil romances almost unequivocally end up either dead, betrayed or heartbroken. But Pod is the one person in all of Westeros who would turn down an interested Sansa Stark all because the knight he squires for told him too.” Jaime rested his head on her shoulder. “I think for that reason alone it means you didn’t make a mistake.”

“What if he ends up heartbroken? What if Sansa ends up hurt?”

He began peppering her neck with kisses. “They’re young, they’ll bounce back.”

“Still… I should-.”

“I don’t know about you,” he purred, nuzzling the crook of her neck. “But I don’t really care to talk about Podrick Payne or the Stark girl anymore.” 

His lips pressed against her flesh and the scratch of his beard against her skin filled her belly with that familiar warm feeling. 

“Well what you you care to talk about instead, My Lord?” she cooed.

She felt his smile against her neck. “The fact that you’re going to be my wife.”

Brienne turned in his arms draped her arms around his neck. His emerald green eyes were shining with love and joy and happiness and everything that she never thought a man would feel when he looked at her.

“I love you, Brienne,” he breathed, running a tender hand through her short hair. 

“I love you too,” she whispered, leaning forward to press her lips against his. But before she could, the chambers door slammed open with a loud !BANG! and Greyworm and two more unsullied guards stormed in. Dustmagget and Jaehaerys hurried in after them.

“What are you doing?” Jaehaerys demanded. But the commander offered no answer. 

“These are my chambers, what is the meaning of this?” Brienne barked at the man she bested but her question got as much a response as Jaehaerys’ did. The two guards flanking him grabbed Jaime by the arms and yanked him out from behind Brienne.

“Get off me!” the lion yelled, fighting tooth and nail but he might as well have tried to escape iron chains.

“Release him!” she shouted. She reached for Oathkeeper at her hip but before her hand could grasp the hilt of her sword Greyworm had whipped around faster then she could even blink and then the tip of his spear was pointed at her swollen stomach. 

Brienne froze, blue eyes wide as she starred into the cold brown eyes of the Unsullied warrior who had once broke bread with her and discussed battle plans with her and treated her with respect and kindness and who even promised to teach her how to fight with an Unsullied spear once the wars were over. He was never exactly a warm man, how could he be after all that he suffered, and his absolute loyalty to the Queen meant he hated Jaime just by association, but he would never harm innocents, he would never be unnecessarily cruel or hateful, he certainly wouldn’t threaten a woman heavy with child. But now that the woman he loved was murdered in front of him after she was put back into chains, what was the point of having honor or love or kindness in your heart? What was the point of possessing what the person you loved most had embodied when she was gone?

Dustmagget and Jaehaerys looked at one another, right fists gripping their spears and nervous looks on their ebony faces. They wanted to help her, she knew they did, but this was their commander. Not to mention if someone made too sudden a movement Greyworms hand might slip and then… then she would truly be lost.

“ **GET AWAY FROM HER** !” Jaime roared with all his might but Brienne barely heard him. Terror gripped her heart and squeezed as tightly as possible. She slowly raised her hands to the sky to prove she wasn’t about to fight. 

“Don’t hurt her,” she begged, calmly. Losing her wits in this situation would be less than ideal. “Please. Please don’t hurt her and if it would please you and Her Grace, tell me what’s happening.”

“Ser Jaime is being placed under arrest for treason.” Greyworms words were sharp and pointed, and his spear never moved an inch. “He’s being brought before the Queen.”

“Treason? What treason?” Jaime spat, eyes never leaving Brienne's stomach.

“The treason where you talk about how you're more than happy to live up to your nickname, Kingslayer. And how you want to get our Queen off her thrown in the same manner of her father.”

“That’s a lie! I never said that!” Jaime protested, but his eyes flickered up to Briennes and they were screaming an apology for the predicament his words landed them in.

“We have witnesses. Now come.” The two guards lurched him forward. “You’re being brought before the Queen.”

Brienne didn't move, she didn’t blink she didn’t even breathe until the sharp tip of the Essos spear was away from her stomach and Greyworm followed his soldiers out of her room. When she was alone Brienne collapsed into the chair and Dustmagget and Jaehaerys raced over to her, helping her into the chair.

“No,” she breathed as they lowered her. “No I- I have to be with him, I need to help him. Help me up.”

“There’s nothing you can do, My Lady,” Dustmagget told her in valerian, words thick with sorrow. “If the Queen has placed him under arrest…”

Brienne shook her head. She grabbed hold of his sleeve and hoisted herself up out of the chair. “I need to try to help him.”

Thankfully the guards didn’t try to stop her, nor did they hinder her when she donned a shirt of mail that was too small in the arms but loose in her stomach, hating that she hadn’t found any actual armor big enough to cover her changed body. She wore Oathkeeper along with her jade dagger and as soon as she was dressed she hurried to the throne room where a large audience had gathered. Jaime was on his knees in front of Daenerys, his left arm chained behind his back and one of her unsullied pointing a spear at his throat. He and Brienne locked eyes for a moment as she walked through the thrush of people and stood by his side before she turned to look at the Queen. She held her head high, her face a cool pond of still water.

Mothers and mates of lions did not cower before dragons.

Aileen was there too, standing off to the side biting her nails and pretty brown eyes fluttering between the door and the Queen nervously.

Daenerys looked down on them both, dressed in black and blood red fur. She was beautiful and terrible and not a single drop of mercy was to be found in her violet eyes. Tyrion had been dragged out of his drunken slumber as well, although seeing his brother on his knees in chains had sobered him up rather abruptly and considerably.

“Jaime Lannister, you stand accused of treason against our Queen,” Greyworm, who stood ever the faithful lieutenant by her side said. “Do you deny it?”

“I do,” Jaime snarled. “I deny it a hundred times over, I never insulted or threatened the Queen.”

Daenerys’ words were all venom and contempt. “We have witnesses saying you did.”

“They’re lying.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Hopes of gold, women, favors, lordships,” he spat. “Take your pick.”

Brienne laid a hand on his shoulder, a silent urging for him to be calm. 

“Both of the witnesses are truthful and honorable men,” Daenerys barked. “The Warden of the North and the Evenstar came to me and told me of your treason.”

“No,” Brienne breathed loud enough to gain the court's attention. Jaime whipped his head up to look at her, emerald eyes confused and hurt. “No… no, Your Grace, it doesn’t make sense,” the tall knight argued, her voice small and shaking. “My father, he-... He gave me permission to marry Ser Jaime this very evening, he betrothed me to him, he wouldn’t have-... There must be some mistake...”

The queens lips curled into a cruel sneer. “You haven’t been told have you?”

“Told what, Your Grace?”

Before Daenerys could answer, there was a loud commotion and then the doors slammed open and in strode Selwyn in a simple white linen nightshirt and roughspun brown breeches along with three of his guards. His blonde hair was mussed making it very clear he had been roused from his bed. Moonbright was in his hand, the blue steel almost black in the dim candlelight. He was flanked by two unsullied guards who kept trying to restrain him but he was stronger than both of them and twisted and jerked away every time one tried to touch him. Out of the corner of Brienne’s eyes she saw Aileen shrink back, gnawing in her lip.

“What is the meaning of this?!” he roared in that booming voice of his as he went and stood on Jaimes other side. “You have your eunuchs drag me out of bed to accuse me of treason  _ again _ !?”

Daenerys scowled at the large man. “You will lower your voice or I will have it lowered for you.”

“You will tell me what this is all about,  _ Your Grace! _ ”

Brienne couldn't make heads or tails of anything. This didn’t make any sense; if her father had been the one to tell Daenerys about the treason then why was he also being dragged before the Queen?

“You stood by silent and did not defend your Queen when Jaime Lannister threatened your queens life,” Greyworm told him, confounding Brienne even further. Isn’t that what Daenerys just said he told her? “You also called her a ‘mad butcher’ and you said you would refuse to honor your daughters oath of fealty she made in this very room.”

Brienne watched her father’s eyes go wide and he whipped his head towards his paramour. The tall knight followed his eyes and saw a guilt ridden Aileen, not even having the courage to look up from the ground to face him. “Do you deny it?” Daenerys asked him. 

For a long moment Selwyn was silent. He kept his eyes, those beautiful almost ethereal blue eyes that belonged to him, his descendants and ancestors, brimming with anger and hate locked on Aileen. 

“Do you deny it?” she demanded agaun. 

He pursed his lips and turned back to the Queen. “I deny being present with Ser Jaime. He never spoke any treason that I’m aware of.” 

Tears filled Brienne's eyes for what she knew to be the only lie he ever told, uttered only to save the man his daughter loved. Selwyn took a shaky breath. “But I will not deny what I said to my whore in what I thought was the privacy of a man’s chambers.”

Brienne saw Aileen cover her mouth and tears leaked from her eyes. She never once heard her father refer to those women as anything but respectful terms. This was the first time he used the crass crude word to describe them.

_ She deserves it _ , Brienne thought to herself bitterly, hating the young woman with every single fiber of her being. 

Daenerys regarded him as coldly as Winterfell snows. “Then I hereby find you guilty, Selwyn of Tarth, of treason.”

Brienne swallowed her fear and stepped forward. “Your Grace, please. Please, he confessed his crimes, all I ask is you spare him. I swore an oath of fealty, Tarth is yours. I will command my father’s forces, they WILL fight for you if you require it, House Tarth will remain faithful to the realm and to the Queen.”

That callous cruel smirk was back. “Oh I know the isle Tarth will be faithful to the crown.” Brienne started to breathe out a sigh of relief before the next few words left her mouth. “Lord Hayden?”

Selwyn furrowed his brow at the title the Queen spoke as Hayden stepped out from the group, standing tall and proud and smug, wearing his rose colored armor and his hand on a sword he recently acquired. 

_ The Queen said the Evenstar told her… no… no, it can’t be… _

“I know Tarth will be loyal to the crown,” Daenerys said once Hayden came and stood in a few steps down from the Queen. “Because House Tarth will no longer rule the Sapphire Isle. Selwyn of Tarth; you and your descendants have been stripped of all lands, titles and holdings. As thanks for his loyalty and honesty; Lord Hayden Flatsun will rule Tarth and hold the title of Evenstar as will his sons and grandsons .”

Selwyn’s eyes went from confused to astonished to the most pure unadulterated anger she had ever seen before in her life. “You bastard!” the large man growled. “You have no right to my family’s home!”

“The Queen says I do,” Hayden said with a contemptuous smile. “And if you would, please address me as my full title; Ser Hayden Flatsun, Lord of Tarth and the Evenstar.”

“Never! That title is not yours to have! The people of Tarth will never have you for their lord!”

“It is now and yes, they will, if they don’t want to be tied to rocks and thrown into the sea.” 

Selwyn took a bold step towards him only to be stopped by the Unsullied guarding him. “That is my title and will belong to my daughter after me, you will not take that from her!” he boomed. “Nor will the people of Tarth ever accept an Evenstar from someone who was only made a Lord by a madwoman who burns people alive because he was a traitor!” He spit at his feet. 

Daenerys hands curled around her throne. Her chin shook with rage and there was a hateful fire burning in her eyes. “I promised your paramour I would spare your life,” she snarled at the older man. “That was the only thing she asked of me, that and a bag of gold to help her on her new life so I shall spare his life.” She glanced towards Aileen for a moment before she turned towards Hayden. “His Lord shall decide the punishment.”

“What?” Aileen breathed, looking between Daenerys and Hayden, furrowing her brow. “Your Grace, that wasn’t the deal. That wasn’t what you promised…”

“Ser Hayden you are his Lord,” said Daenerys, ignoring the young woman. “What punishments do you have for treason on Tarth?”

Brienne whipped around to face him. His pale green eyes lit first with shock and then malice and cruelty. “We execute traitors on Tarth, Your Grace.”

“You promised!” cried Aileen as the unsullied guards grabbed hold of his arms only for Selwyn to yank away. “Your Grace you promised you would spare him!”

“I did. Lord Hayden made no such promise though.”

Without warning one of the Unsullied hit him, hard, in the back of the head with the metal spiked helm all the slave soldiers carried and Selwyn cried out in pain as he dropped to his knee, and then was hit again and again.

“Your Grace please!” Brienne begged Daenerys. “Please, send him to the Wall, send him into exile, don’t kill him!”

“I warned him,” she snarled. “The day he arrived, I warned him if there was a hint of treason from him what the penalty would be.”

“Your Grace, PLEASE!”

“I’ll bare his punishment!” Jaime yelled out. He started to stand but the Unsullied forced him back to his knees with a painful bang. “Let him live and allow me to accept his punishment, I was to be his Good-Son, let him live!” 

But Brienne saw that the Queen would not be able to move her with words. She grabbed the hilt of Oathkeeper and began to draw it from her scabbard.

“STAY YOUR SWORD!” Selwyn boomed, louder than even Brienne ever heard him. 

Brienne whipped towards her father. A warm stream of blood running down his face. His big blue eyes were pleading not for his life but he knew what would happen if Brienne, six months pregnant, tried to go after a handful of perfectly trained Unsullied guards. “You stay that sword, Brienne, do you understand me?!” When she didn’t loosen her grip he yelled again. “For Joanna’s sake, you stay that sword!”

She met his eyes, a mirror of her own, and let out a sob as she let the sword fall back into its leather casing. Aileen was screaming and a guard was holding her back and Jaime was still pleading for his life but Brienne was sobbing.

“I’m sorry!” she cried through her sobs. “Father, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

She was sorry for a hundred things. Sorry for not being able to save him or her brother, sorry that the waves had taken Galladon instead of her, sorry that she was neither a gallant son or a graceful daughter but a creature that a good man like him never should have been cursed with, sorry for all of her faults… She was sorry for everything. 

Hayden came up to him and snatched Moonbright from his hand. Hayden glared up at him, an expression full of the worst kind of absolute hate. 

“My family will haunt you,” he growled at the man who had guarded his life.

Hayden just smirked down at his former lord. “Do you have any last words?”

The former Evenstar turned towards Brienne and his blue eyes softened and the smile he wore was the most gentle thing she had ever seen in her life.

“Brienne, I-.”

Moonbright whistled through the air before the sharp steel cut was plunged into Selwyn’s back and out through his chest. 

There was an anguished scream. Hers or Aileen’s or Selwyns; Brienne couldn’t say. She fell to her knees, watching as his white shirt was stained crimson and he gasped for breath that wouldn’t come as Hayden twisted the sword before yanking it back out. Selwyn fell to the ground, his chest no longer rising and falling and ever would again.

Brienne trembled as she stared at her father. Aileen was screaming at Daenerys, Jaime was shouting at Hayden but she heard none of it. She saw nothing, felt nothing but a familiar pain but foreign at the same time. It was the same pain when she watched Renly's life slip from him but a thousand times worse. It was the same hurt when she watched Jaime leave her but a hundred times more unbearable. She kneeled beside her father’s corpse and cradled his head in her lap while silent tears fell down her pale cheeks. His blue eyes were staring up, unblinking, the light gone out of them. His strong calloused hand that killed a thousand enemies and held his daughter tenderly when she was a girl laid limp by his side. 

She slowly lifted her head up and caught the wild glint in Hayden’s eyes. 

She stood slowly. Everything was slow. She felt as light as a feather as she grabbed the hilt of Oathkeepers sword and slowly, (was she being slow? She couldn’t tell) lifted her sword, bringing it down on what would have been his neck had he not caught it with Moonbright and pushed back her attack. He raised his sword and she blocked it, her father’s blood coming off the steel in sprinkles. Jaime was screaming and fighting against the guards that held him, kicking and slamming against them, doing anything he can to try to help Brienne but a one handed man was no match for the slave soldiers.

Oathkeeper and Moonbright clashed together over and over, back and forth, back and forth they went, Brienne's strikes coming slower than they ever had before and Hayden, unused to the weight of the sapphire laden sword, was slowed as well but he was quicker than she was for once. 

But not quick enough to catch the strike when Oathkeeper kissed his shoulder, leaving a dark red stain where it’s cold lips touched. 

Hayden hissed in pain and then twisted around, managing to get his feet wrapped up in hers and tripped her. Brienne fell backwards with a loud and heavy crash. Hayden raised Moonbright and swung down, aiming her family's steel at her stomach. Brienne angled Oathkeeper and caught the blow but he was quicker than she was and raised his sword again, bringing it down too fast for her to get her sword in position. The scream Jaime made was louder than it had been when his hand was taken from him.

_ I’m sorry _ , she told her cub as she closed her eyes, waiting for the strike. But all that came was the sound of metal on wood, the same sound her sword made when it clashed against Greyworms spear. She opened her eyes and looked up, seeing Dustmagget standing over her, his spear having caught the sword just as the very edge of the steel pressed against her flesh. 

Hayden pulled his sword back and went to strike at the guard but Jaehaerys had come around and jammed the point of his spear into Hayden’s back.

“One move,” the unsullied snarled in the common tongue as Hayden froze. “And I end you.”

Hayden glared at Brienne as if it was somehow her fault that the two soldiers saved her before he lifted his sword and stepped back. He pointed his sword at his guards, clutching his bleeding shoulder with his other hand.

“I want that ugly bitch gutted!” Hayden screamed to whoever would listen to him.

The sapphire soldiers stood confused and afraid, all of them grabbing the hilt of their swords, unsure who they were supposed to follow orders from. Brienne crawled back over to her father and cradled him in his lap again. 

He was already turning cold. 

Daenerys glared at the tall knight. “Brienne of Tarth. I, Daenerys of House Targaryen, first of her name, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, sentence you to die.”

“Your Grace,” Tyrion barked, not by her side but in front of her, defiant and strong. “Lady Brienne is pregnant! You cannot execute a woman with child!”

“She just tried to kill the Lord of Tarth.”

“She just watched him murder her father! Evenstill, did the babe do him any harm?”

“She should have thought about that before she attacked him.”

Tyrion glared unafraid at the seething Queen. “She is carrying the next Warden of the West and she was to be the next Lady of the Rock. If you murder her and her child, the West will rise up against you. You already took Tarth away from the rightful ruling family and if you kill the child and grandchild of the Evenstar, the Stormlands will rise up against you. If you kill Lady Sansa's sword shield and closest confidant the North will rise up against you. The Riverlands and Vale will do whatever Lady Sansa tells them to do so they too will rise up against you, and the Reach is headed up by Bronn who will do whatever  _ I  _ tell him too, which if you kill the babe, will be to rise up against you. Whose left to fight for you? The Ironborn and the Dornish? How did it work out with only them as allies last time?” 

No man in the throne room stood as tall as the Hand. 

Daenerys glared at her Hand but Brienne saw the wheels in her head turning. She turned towards Brienne and after a moment a cruel grin rose to her lips. 

“Thanks to that bastard you carry inside you, your execution has been stayed.” Brienne didn’t answer her. “But know that you will never hold it, you will never name it, it will never suckle from your breast. The moment it’s born the guards will carry it out of the cell you’re going to die in and I will have your bastard raised in the worst sort of Flea Bottom orphanage. Then when it turns eight years of age if it’s a boy he will go to the fighting pits in Meereen to pay for his parents sins and if it’s a girl, she will go to the Lys pleasure houses to pay for her parents sins.”

“You will not touch my child,” Jaime snarled, bruised and bloodied from the Unsullied he fought to try to help Brienne.

“I can and I will,” Daenerys said as calmly as a still pond.

“You aren’t going to touch my cub, you murderous bitch!” he roared.

The Queen glared at the man standing before him. “Greyworm, take the Kingslayer down the deepest darkest cell we have in the Black Cells,” she spat without looking away from Jaime. “Then throw Ser Brienne in a cell as well.”

“Yes, My Queen.”

Brienne barely even registered anything she heard or saw and instead her feet moved, one in front of the other, as if they belonged to a different person through the throne room, down the corridors and to the dungeons. Jaime was led down another set of stairs while she was pushed through the landing to the second floor dungeons. It wasn’t until she was pushed into her cell and she heard the door lock behind her, engulfing her in near darkness, did she finally throw her head back and scream…

 

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	27. Chapter 27

One of the things Brienne loved and missed most about Tarth was the vast openness of it all. In Evenfall handsome white marble stretched up and up and large tall windows opened to let the island sunshine in and gleam off the polished rock. The beaches, the meadows, the mountain ranges that ran down the center of Tarth, brilliant blue water as far as the eye could see… All of it open and waiting for adventure and exploring. Even the city Sunrise that laid in the shadow of Evenfall seemed more open and sprawling then other cities she came across in her journeys.

The North was open as well, a far more wild sort of open to be sure, but still; it had a sense of never ending-ness to it all, like one could ride for years and years and never reach the ends of the earth. 

What she wouldn’t give for some of that openness of Tarth or the North now.

The cell Greyworm put her in was small, and cramped, a 6X6 solid stone box which means there wasn’t even enough room for her to lie down without scrunching up and the very tip of her head brushed against the ceiling. Her bed was a small pile of damp musty straw and her chamber pot a rusted leaky bucket with a plethora of flies circling overhead. She was far enough away from the closest torch on the wall that only a tiny sliver of light managed to find its way through the bars on top of the heavy iron door. It was cold, and damp and no matter how far she burrowed under the straw she could never get warm and her crooked teeth chattered constantly. 

But at least she had bars on the door to see out of even if the view was only a dirty stone wall.  At least she had a pile of straw to curl up on and a bucket to make water in. Jaime was taken to the black cells where he had nothing but iron chains holding him to the walls, not even a place to relieve himself and no light filtered through his thick wood and iron studded door. She had to be grateful they only brought her to the second floor rather than the Black Cells where her betrothed was. 

_ If I don’t make it out of here in time then after the baby’s born I’ll take his place,  _ she told herself one night.  _ I’ll ask the guards to switch us. Let him have some light, let him have a bed of straw, let him have a way to stretch his legs. _

The first day she screamed until her throat was raw and pained. When the guard came that night to give her a cold dinner of a few sips of watery stew with half a softened old carrot and a long black hair floating in it she demanded to speak to Lady Sansa or the Hand of the Queen or somebody, but he ignored her. 

Day after day she screamed for the guard, for Sansa, for Tyrion, for Pod, for ANYBODY to come and talk to her. Brienne was a highborn lady and a knight and she demanded to be treated with the accord you were supposed to give noble prisoners.

The guards that didn’t out right ignore her sneered at her and mocked her demands. 

“Far as I know, you ain’t no lady no more,” a guard with a simple look on his block shaped face named Petyr Stone taunted her once when he was making his rounds a few days after she had been brought to her cell. “Seems to me that Lord Hayden rules Tarth now which makes you no better than a peasant.”

“I am the Lady of Tarth!” Brienne snarled at the man. “I am the sworn shield to the Lady of the North, I am Jaime Lannister’s legally betrothed! You will allow me to speak to someone!”

Stones lips curled into an ugly smile, revealing a mouthful of brown teeth. “I’ll let you talk to someone.” The tone in his voice was thick with want and Brienne backed up against the far wall at the sound of it. The torch light he held reflected the dangerous lust in his dull murky green eyes. “If you’re willing to sit on my face for a bit I’ll let you talk to whoever you want.”

It was a lie. An obvious one at that, and Brienne told him as such. “If you come in here you’ll be leaving a eunuch,” she warned him, hoping the story of what she did to Raeko had spread far enough to be able to dissuade him.

Stone laughed at the threat and for a moment Brienne thought he might try to take what he wanted anyway but he just walked away to finish his rounds.

The meals were few and far between, and sparse when they remembered to feed her.

“Please,” she begged one of the guards two weeks after she was imprisoned. She was going on six days with a lick of water or a crumb of bread and her stomach was cramping with hunger pains. “Please I need something to eat, I need food. My baby-.”

“Should have thought of that before you got thrown in there,” the guard, a cold uncaring man simply called Benn told her. 

Stone was cruel and disgusting, constantly making threats to rape her, to cut the baby out of her, to do all manner of terrible things and then goading her with false promises of food or delivering a message if she would lay with him. The screams from the other prisoners were always loudest when Stone was on duty. Whereas Benn was sullen and silent, half the time not even talking to her or the rest of the prisoners and when he did talk it was in short words and shorter sentences. 

“Please!” Brienne pleaded, tears rushing down her face. “Please, my baby needs food!”

Benn kicked a rat that went scurrying by, sending it slamming into the wall. He picked it up by the tail and tossed through the bars. It landed with a thud beside her boot and twitched. “Enjoy your feast,” he grumbled before walking off.

“Please!” she screamed after him, clutching at her stomach. “Guard, my baby! Please! PLEASE!”

But she got no answer. The tall knight leaned her head back against the stone wall and wept and screamed, kicking out at the wall until a throbbing shooting pain ran up her leg until she was exhausted. She curled up on the damp straw, wrapping her arms around the baby that she told herself every day was moving just as much as the day before. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the life inside her as silent tears, doing her best to ignore the pain in her belly. “My little love, I’m so sorry. I’ll get you out of this, I promise. I promise…” Brienne closed her eyes to try to sleep. She had long ago lost any sense of daylight or nighttime, sleeping whenever she felt tired which, as the days past, grew more and more often. When she slept she had terrible nightmares of her father’s murder, of Jaimes riding away from her, of Raeko and Locke, but what was the worst, the one that without  fail left her screaming and gasping for air, was the one where Daenerys ripped the sunburst marked cub away from her breast, the same night terror she had when she first arrived in Kingslanding. Only this time Greyworm didn’t kill her but rather the Queen gave the cub to a group of Dothraki and bloody mummers who tore her apart until every inch of her beautiful white fur was pure crimson.

She awoke an hour (or two? A day? She was no longer sure how much time passed while she slept) later to a ‘psst’ outside her door. Brienne groaned as she sat up, forcing her blue eyes open and staring at the door where a fairly young guard stood, one she hadn’t seen before. His deep green eyes were soft and kind and she could see the inky black hair shine in the torchlight.

“Lady Brienne?” he said in a small voice, quiet and fretful.

“What is it?” she asked, hard pressed to remember the courtesies that Septa Roelle had belted into her. 

Without a word, a tiny steel plate was slid through the oft unused food slip in the door. Brienne scrambled to her feet and grabbed the plate from his hand. On it laid a single cold chicken thigh that had been boiled in salt water with no herbs or seasonings to speak of and a hard bit of bread that tasted vaguely of sawdust. As she tore into the meat Brienne decided it was the best meal she had in her entire life.

“I heard you crying the other day,” the man explained nervously as Brienne devoured the bird and stuffed her face with the bread. “My wife’s expecting too so I just… I’m Emmett Swann, My Lady.”

Swann, one of the Stormland house, the second biggest behind the Baratheons in terms of wealth and power and one step above House Tarth. The two houses always got along well; Galladon and Jayne Swann, the first born daughter of Lord Gulian, were even supposed to be married if he lived to an age of manhood. 

Brienne sucked every bit of meat and fat from its bones and licked the plate free of crumbs and grease before she looked at him.

“Thank you,” she told him, close to tears with gratitude. “Thank you, Ser, I am forever in your debt.”

“I heard what happened to your father,” he said, his soft spoken voice dripping with apology. “I’m sorry, My Lady, I knew him to be a good man.”

Her heart swelled with pain and throbbed unmercifully at the mention of the Evenstar. “Thank you. But I- I need your help. Please, you have to let me talk to Lord Tyrion or Lady Sansa or- or even my squire, Podrick Payne. Please, I just need to talk to one of them.”

Emmett shifted guiltily where he stood. “The Queen said that none of them could come see you.”

“Please,” she begged him. “Please, I cant- I cant be in here. My baby-.”

“I know but I- I’m not even supposed to be talking to you, I’m not even supposed to come down to this floor, I’m supposed to be guarding the first floor of dungeons only. I’m sorry.”

Brienne choked back a barrage of curses. It wouldn’t serve her to scream at and insult the only one who had been by to help her so instead she tried another request. “Ser Jaime. He’s in the black cells, can you tell me how he fares at least?”

“My Lady, I-.”

“He was to be my husband, he’s the father of my child,” she argued. “How would you feel if your wife was locked in one floor with you in another and you couldn’t speak to her?”

Emmett opened his mouth and closed it, biting his lip and she could see the tear between doing his duty and wanting to help the pregnant woman. “I’ll see what I can do,” he finally settled on. A vague probably empty promise but it filled Brienne with a sense of renewed purpose.

“Thank you,” she sighed, grateful. “Thank you. And… if you do see him… tell him I love him.”

He slipped something else through the bars, a wineskin full of lukewarm water that Brienne was gracious she wouldn’t be able to see what was floating in it. She drank greedily until he told her to slow down because he was unsure when he would be able to sneak down here again. A man laughed in the distance and the man backed away, fearful of being caught.

“I’ll be back soon, My Lady. I promise.” She caught a flicker of a smile in the torchlight. “Keep your chin up.”

Without another word Emmett Swann hurried away 

Four nights later her Swann returned to her, this time bearing a slab of a cold and dry bit of pork. Brienne inhaled the grey piece of meat just as quickly as she had done the bird, choking back a gag at the taste and smell that she had found repugnant since she became pregnant.

“I spoke to Ser Jaime,” he whispered, eyes flickering back and forward between the door and her.  “He’s alive, My Lady.”

Brienne snapped her head up, blue eyes wide and hopeful. “He’s alive? Is he okay, are they hurting him? Are they feeding him? How did he look?”

She watched as Emmett gnawed at his bottom lip and if the hesitation wasn’t obvious enough his green eyes shouted the truth. “He’s… alive.” She slumped back against the wall, the cracks in her already wounded heart growing deeper. Emmett almost looked guilty, “They’ve given him a few meals but he tells them to send them to you instead.”

Tears welled in her eyed. Jaime was sacrificing food for her and their cub, food that she wasn’t even receiving.

Emmett continued. “When I told him they weren’t letting you eat he got angry. Really angry.”

“He’s wasting food for no reason, I’d be angry as well.” She picked a tiny string of pork off the metal plate and ate it. “Did he say anything else?”

“That he’d give me a lordship and reign of Casterly Rock if I helped you escape.” 

“A Lannister always pays their debts,” she reminded the guard.

“My Lady, I-... if the Queen found out-... if she even knew I was passing messages along…”

Brienne closed her eyes, fighting back her rage. She would have helped someone in her position, the Queen or any punishment she could come up with be damned. Jaime would have done it too, he knew she would. He lost a hand to defend her honor when they weren’t even friends. They wouldn’t be afraid like this craven. 

_ Would Jaime though, if he had a child on the way? _ that bloody noble part of her that wouldn’t allow her to judge others too harshly asked.  _ Would he risk death or imprisonment just to help two strangers who are two of the queens biggest enemies to boot escape now that you’re pregnant? Would you? _

Brienne passed the metal plate back through the slot as well as the empty wineskin only to get a full one in return. “If you see him again, tell him to stop sending me food,” she told him. I think that’s why I’m being starved, to punish him.”

“I will, My Lady. He also said one more thing.”

“What is it?”

“That at least he’s inside this time and he loves you too.”

She wasn’t sure when exactly Emmett got the message to Jaime to stop trying to send her food but soon the guards began giving her occasional tiny bowls of lukewarm watery broth with a rare piece of soft carrot or a chunk of raw onion floating it in. It wasn’t every day, not even every other day, but often enough that she could lie to herself and tell herself that Joanna was getting enough of what she needed to be healthy. 

Emmett would stop by every few days, or she thought it was every few days, with a leg of a boiled chicken, a tiny cut of grey dry beef, a small slab of stringy overdone ham but more than that, she would give her messages from Jaime and carry hers in return. Sometimes it was nothing more than a simple ‘I love you’, other times it was long romantic speeches, once they had even envisioned what their lives would be like post imprisonment married with their four children, a dream that was like to never come true to be sure, but it was a beautiful one and one that they needed to tell themselves in order to keep themselves sane. 

Emmett told her one day the Queen was growing more and more upset that the black cell wasn’t having the effect Daenerys wanted on the Kingslayer. It had been four weeks since they were thrown into their cells (that was it? Only a month? It somehow felt both incredibly longer and far shorter than that to Brienne) and stronger more quick witted men than Jaime Lannister had been reduced to a catatonic mess thanks to the black cells seclusion.  But her lion wasn’t going mad. He still had a light in his eyes, he still wore that cutting Lannister grin whenever the guards would bring him his meals. Brienne has Emmett ask him once what was keeping him sane and Jaime replied that this was something he had to hold onto himself, he couldn’t trust their envoy with this secret. If anyone found out and took it from him… 

What was almost worse than the hunger was the pain. The constant pain, more pain than she ever earned while holding  a sword in her hand. Her back ached, her legs were constantly cramped, even the very bones in her hips and pelvis hurt and no matter if she stood, laid down, curled up, stretched out as far as she could nothing ever seemed to aid her. Her headaches never really went away, instead just going from a dull thud on a good day to a blinding stabbing behind her eyes that left her weeping and nauseous on a bad. Benn never said anything but a command to stifle her tears but one night Petyr snickered at the crying woman whenever he caught her like this, telling her that the baby inside her was likely dying and that was probably causing her the pain. 

_ No _ ! Brienne screamed at herself every time the thought slithered to her mind in the long stretches of foul silences she had to endure.  _ I would know if she was dying, I would feel it! She’s fine! _

But even still she couldn’t deny that what was once a very active cub now hardly moved and when she did, it was slow gentle movements, not her usual powerful kicks and flips. Brienne walked from one end of her cell to the other, she laid on her back perfectly still, she sword fought with a shadow, she sat up straight and took deep breaths… she did whatever she could to stir the life inside. She wasn’t even sure if the baby slowing down was something normal or not. She wanted Jaime with her. She wanted Maester Waldon, she wanted someone to tell her for absolute certainty that her baby was fine. Brienne went to sleep dreaming of Daenerys taking her cub again but before she could hand it over to the men who would rip it limp from limb she was awoken by a rush of cold water being poured over her head.

Her eyes flew open and she scampered to her feet, gasping and reaching for a sword that wasn’t there. She looked around for a moment before she saw the man she hated more than all the words in all the languages in all the worlds could ever allow her to say standing before her.

“Good morning,” Hayden smirked. “Sorry for the water but the smell of you and this place… a great ittle too raunchy for my tastes.”

The new Evenstar was flanked by two guards in the familiar rose colored armor looking, she had to be wrong as to this, sympathetic to her plight while Benn stood in front of the open cell door, a short sword in his hand practically daring her to make a run for it. Hayden himself was dressed in handsome blue and rose colored leathers while, she realized with a fury that made her see red, Moonbright hung at his waist.

Brienne ran her hands over her soaking wet face before she pointed a shaking finger at the blue steel. “That’s my family's sword. Moonbright was gifted to House Tarth as thanks for our loyalty. You’ve no right to wield her.”

“And yet here I stand doing just that.” Hayden patted the sapphire laden hilt. “The sword belongs to the Lord of Tarth. As far as I’m aware, the Queen made me the Evenstar, not you.”

“You were given that title by a monarch who won’t last the year. Someone is going to take her out, you know they will.”

Hayden shrugged. “Perhaps. But it won’t be you that does it. You’ll be too busy being here slowly dying, losing your mind, wondering what your little bastard looks like...” Brienne cast the fiercest glare she could muster as he unstrapped a wineskin from his sword belt and took a long swig. “Nor will it remove my title.”

“Why are you here?” she demanded, in no mood to listen to anymore of the casual joy in his voice when he talked about losing her life. “To gloat? To kill me? Do what you want and be done, I’m in no mood to look at a murderer.”

“Gloat, yes. Kill you, no.” He stopped up the wineskin. “I’m actually here to see if you were smart enough to seize the opportunity to go home.”

_ It’s a trap! _ she screamed at herself as her eyes full with shock at what he just said in spite of herself.  _ Don’t trust him! _

“Your japes aren’t amusing,” she spat at him.

He shrugged. “Who said I was joking? I was prepared for the island to resent me for what I did to your father which, fine, behead a few traitors, they’ll get over it. What I DIDN’T expect was just how many people on that big ugly rock caree about you and hate me for getting you and your bastard locked in a cell.” 

Brienne didn’t offer a word. She watched the sword at his hip carefully. This was a trick. A cruel trick, it had to be. She hadn’t been home in nearly ten years, she was an ugly lumbering beast, no one wanted her as their Evenstar. Sure when she was home she made it a point to know as many as the smallfolk as she could despite her shyness, she spent a year toiling in the marble mines as so many of the Lords of Tarth did before her (how could they expect their people to break their backs working in the mines for a good chunk of their lives when the ones who benefited the most weren’t even willing to put in a years work?), she helped her father make sure the ports were clean and safe for sailors, she made sure there was enough pot-shops and charity for the less fortunate on her island… 

But she was Brienne the Beauty. A woman, an ugly woman at that. No one would want her to rule over them.

…

Right?

“Tarth wants Tarth blood to rule from Evenfall,” Hayden continued. “I’ve already had to squash two uprisings, the mines have all but shut down because the workers are rebelling… I need the Tarth name and Tarth needs to see Selwyn daughter on my arm if I’m ever to step into Evenfall again.’

Her mouth went dry. Her heart slammed against her chest. The longer he spoke, the more a tiny crack filtered through the wall she put up when it came to this man. What if he was telling the truth? Could he really be willing to free her if this place? And if he was… What was the cost? 

Brienne stood just as rigid, not relaxing her stance and keeping her blue eyes locked on Moonbright. “What would I have to do in return for my freedom?”

Amusement danced in his eyes. “Marry me.”

“No,” she said sharply.

“Then you’re going to be stuck in here the rest of your life and your child will be taken away from you.”

The threat made what little food she had turned into a hard slab in her stomach. Her hand embraced the giant curve of her belly.

Her baby hadn’t moved in nearly an hour.

“I- I’m betrothed to another,” she stammered out. 

Hayden laughed and her large hands curled into a fist. “I think being locked up in a cell nullifies a betrothal.”

The words she spoke to Jaime a lifetime ago came rushing back at full speed, hammering her into the ground. 

_ I love my child more than anything in this life, I will choose her happiness over mine every time. _

She would never love Hayden. How could she ever even stomach sharing a marriage bed with him when the blood of her father still stained the hilt of his sword?  How could anything ever compare to the life and happiness she would have shared with Jaime? But her daughter… Joanna would be taken from her. She would never know who or what she was, she would be neglected in the orphanage and then sold to the highest bidder in Essos. Her cub would never know the histories of her the Tarth house or the Lannister’s, she would never know she was a lioness, she would never feel a warmth and familiarity when she gazed up at the night sky and saw the crescent moon shining down on her. 

Brienne couldn’t let that happen. She WOULDN’T let that happen. Her cub deserved the best, she deserved the entire world. She deserved a mother who would put aside her integrity and wants and needs for the sake of her.

The words were like poison on her tongue but she forced them out anyway. “You can bed however many women you want, claim as many bastards as you fancy, but you WILL name my child the heir to Tarth.”

“No. My own son will be named heir.”

Brienne lifted her brow. “You think a bastard from a whore will have more of a claimant than my daughter? The flesh and blood of the  _ true  _ Evenstars? Give her Tarth and I’ll give you my name.”

Hayden pursed his lips at the tall woman. “Fine. I’ll name her heir until my own son is born.”

“I just said-.”

“Not a bastard from a whore, a true born son shared with you.” He shrugged. “I figure if Jaime Lannister can get it up with the lights off and his eyes closed, I don’t see why I can’t.”

Brienne rolled her eyes to the low ceiling but didn’t bother correcting the man or worrying too much about the insult. That was the life she thought she would be forced into before Jaime anyway. An unwilling husband in darkness, no pleasure on her end, a few quick thrusts and it was over, and when she gave him a male heir that would be the end of it.

She thought things would be different with Jaime. She would have a husband who wanted to be with her, who lusted for her, who pleasured her in the marriage bed… That was just another dream though. Another stupid hopeful girlish dream like when she thought if Renly could see how strong and powerful she was and how much she loved him he might put aside Marjorie Tyrell and take Brienne for a wife instead.

But Renly was dead now, and all her dreams along with it. Her king died in her arms, and she could do nothing to stop it.

Her king may have died, but she would be damned if her knight followed him into the earth.

“I will marry you,” she told the man standing before her. “But as part as my deal you also have to free Jaime Lannister from his chains too.”

Hayden snickered at her. “So you can annul our marriage and marry him instead the first chance you get?”

“I will not marry him, you have my word. I won’t ever see him again if that’s that it takes to convince you.” The thought I’d never seeing him again was a depressing one but if it saved his life… “I just want him alive and out of that cell. You need to tell the Queen to free him. Free him and I’ll be your wife.”

“You’re very demanding for a woman in a cell. Why would I help free the Kingslayer?”

“Because it was your words that put him there!”

“He was a traitor,” he gasped, putting a hand to his head in mocking outrage. “I could never live with myself if treason went unpunished! Not to mention the Queen will have my head if I let the Kingslayer go free. It’s you and only you, no one else.”

_ I have the high ground, _ she reminded herself.  _ He needs something from me just as much as I need something from him. _

“Then I will not marry you.”

“Then you’re going to rot in here and your daughter will be given to an Essos pleasure house or your son will be given to the fighting pits. Quite frankly I’m hoping for a girl…” His smile was dark and dangerous. “Imagine it; the last living female descendant of the mighty Tywin Lannister, the granddaughter of the Evenstar, the blood of western kings and eastern queens running through her veins made to lie on her back while some old man with a big belly and a little prick shoots his seed into her for a handful of coppers. Maybe I’ll take a boat over to Essos and try her out myself.”

A flash of red blinded her to all else but her rage. Brienne screamed, launching herself at the man in front of her. Her long calloused fingers brushed against his throat when his guards grabbed her by the arms and was yanking her backwards. She fought and clawed and kicked and screamed but a month in the dungeons with little food, almost no water and the pain that settled deep into her very bones made it nearly impossible to overtake men she normally could have beaten in the training yard one handed. 

“My Lady, calm down!” one of the guards urged her quietly as they jerked her back. “Please!”

Hayden watched amused for a moment before he unsheathed Moonbright and held the point of it at her throat. She froze then, and her eyes bore into his, hating him with a passion equal to none. “I guess you need some time to think about it, yeah?” He sheathed the sapphire laden sword. “I’ll come back in a week or two when you’ve had time to calm down.” He gave her a low, mocking bow. “My Lady.”

Hayden started to walk out before he suddenly twisted back around. Almost forgot something.” He reaches into his jacket and pulled out a rose as red as blood. “A gift for my Lords daughter.” He smirked before he threw the flower in her face, turned and walked out with his guards following him.

Benn barely waited a moment after the guards crossed the threshold before he shut and locked the door behind him, leaving her alone in the darkness once more.

 

Please Review! 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only thing I’m going to say in response to yalls feelings and emotions is chapter 31 y’all. Chapter 31. And incase you’ve noticed the story isn’t going to be done in 7 chapters (admittedly 5/7 would have been angsty in the original draft) but there’s now ten chapters left and… I’m not going to give anything else away but chapter. Thirty. One.
> 
> And I have cut a LOT of things, I moved some stuff around, I softened things up (a lot) and at first it was done rather reluctantly but the more I planned it out and replanned, replaced some plots, took some admittedly unnecessary things out, the more I REALLY liked where this ended up, like way more than my original plan lol. I was actually gonna consider uploading the original ending in an AU of sorts but I actually like this ending so much more to the point that I’m not gonna do that, you just get the one ending lol. But I DO listen to you guys, I DO appreciate your time and your effort and I love your feedback. *heart emoji*   
> B

If there was one thing Jaime loved that others wouldn’t guess about him- it was that he preferred silences. Growing up in Casterly Rock he was surrounded by sounds, even when he was trying to sleep. While some of it was comforting (swords singing and the men that were supposed to be his one day laughing) and others were unpleasant at best (Tyrion and Cersei arguing with one another and Tywin barking orders at his staff), it would always be a much needed reprieve when he could go and hide in the highest room in the tallest tower alone just to be able to hear himself think.

Sure he could relax and sleep on the ground with the crickets chirping and men talking in hushed whispers, he was a soldier before anything else after all (not to mention he had been forced to sleep with his arms chained behind him sitting up against a wooden post covered in shit and wearing rotting clothes for close to a year). But what he really preferred was quiet. It was when he could clearly and concisely hear himself think that he was able to really be at his best.

And, lucky for him, silence was all that surrounded him in his 4X4 black cell. As a matter of fact, it was almost better than Robb Starks pen. He could move his arms, he could even lay down, although he had to do it curled up in a ball, she wasn’t surrounded by groans of dying men and screams and cries of the other levels of cells…  It wasn’t all that bad but he could see how a man might go mad here. Cut off from the world, surrounded by nothing but darkness that your eyes never quite adjusted too, not knowing rather it was day or night, easily losing track of the days you were a prisoner… If he were a lesser man like the high and mighty honorable Ned Stark or that old grey cunt Pycelle he would have lost whatever sanity he had only after a few hours of being locked up.  But so long as Jaime had his silence and the thoughts of Brienne and Joanna to keep him company, he would be alright. He had to be, if he gave in to what the lizard queen wanted, if she turned him as mad as she was, Daenerys would win and Jaime was far too stubborn to let that blonde bitch triumph.

That was why he wasn’t being executed, he was sure of it. She wanted him to go mad in the black cells, separated from everyone he loved, barely an ounce of meat on his bones, golden hair white with shock, green eyes sunken in and babbling about a hallucination that appeared before him. Jaime wouldn’t give her that satisfaction. He would kill himself before he turned mad, he would end it before the Queen paraded the crazed lion in front of the court, in front of Brienne.

Although, Jaime had to admit, the hunger was getting to him. Not to mention the beatings. Two men every few days would storm into his cell, shackle him to the wall and they would take turns punching, kicking, hitting him with the flat edge of their sword until his flesh was bruised and cut and bloody.

_ They refuse to take me on without me chained. I’m a one handed caged lion and they still fear me. _

Jaime’s smirk only encouraged them to hit harder. 

The food was far scarcer than the beatings. The first time one of the guards remembered to bring him a bowl of what amounted to no more than lukewarm greasy water with a few pieces of limp onions floating on top Jaime told the man to give it to Brienne instead. The light from the torch showed a hint of amusement on the guards face. A Riverlands bastard named Edmure.

“Is that an order,  _ M’lord _ ?” The first words he heard ina week.

“Not an order, a request,” he clarified. “She’s heavy with child, and I don’t think- OOF!”

A mailed fist drove into his stomach and he fell to the ground, gasping for breath that didn’t seem to want to come. 

Edmure leaned down, any amusement replaced by a snarl. “You ain’t the one with the power down here, Lannister… You’d do well to remember that.”

Jaime got to his knees, then to his feet. He gripped the damp stone wall as a crutch. “Forgive me, Ser,” he panted. “I didn't mean to give offense. But Lady Brienne, she’s 6 months pregnant… I don’t know what they’re feeding her, but it’s not enough. Please, Ser. Please help her.”

The mirth was back in his eyes. “Anyone ever tell you you’re the bravest man alive? Or the dumbest?”

Jaime smiled through his pain. “Bravery and stupidity often go hand in hand I find.”

The guard chuckled and his spirits rose an inch. “Alright, Lannister… I’ll take this up to your lady love.” Jaime missed the smirk on the guards thin cracked lips. “Should all your meals be given to her then?”

“Every other.”

“I’ll make a note of it.”

The guard did a low, mocking bow and shut the door behind him when he left soup in hand, plunging the Lord of Casterly Rock into darkness and silence once more. 

Several days passed, then several more. Days, and weeks of peaceful quiet where he thought about the long nights he spent with Brienne in Winterfell, of the days to come on Tarth with him and his family. She would rule the island, he would lead their armies, and their four little cubs would be by their side watching and learning and studying it all. His brother would rule in the West until Jaime’s son came of age, someone friendly to the Lannister’s would sit on the throne, and the big fierce black dragon skull would sit beneath the red keep while its mother's head was plunged into a spike atop the castle.

It was a beautiful dream, one Jaime knew was unlikely to happen, but he had to hold onto something. 

He was fed few and far between, and every other meal he told them to send it to Brienne. Edmure assured him he was giving the meals to the Lady of Tarth and Jaime had no choice but to trust the man. Time passed by slow and fast, creeping by and speeding up all at once. He wasn’t sure how long he slept and when he did sleep terrors plagued him and when he left woke he would gasp and scream and cry out for his knight, for his Queen, for his brother, his children, his mother long since rotting in her Casterly Rock crypt, even for Tywin on occasion. But he brushed the terrors away when he woke and forced himself to envision Brienne, Joanna, his children yet to come named Lannister… If he let the darkness overwhelm him, if he thought his dreams were real, even for a second, Daenerys would win, and Jaime couldn’t have that. It was, however, getting harder and harder not to give into the demands of the black cells and it took longer and longer to call up the happy visions of Brienne and their cubs.

One day his door opened and a nervous looking young man with inky black hair and deep green eyes, a Stormlander by the look of him.

“You’re new,” Jaime grumbled, sitting up against the wall without looking at him. 

“My- My Lord, I’m… I’m here… I’m Emmett Swann, My Lord.”

“‘My Lord’ said without mocking… it’s been… I can’t even tell you how long it’s been since I heard that.”

“Two weeks,” Emmett told him. His eyes shifted back and forth from Jaime to the door. “You’ve been down here for two weeks, My Lord.”

“Only two weeks?” Jaime finally turned to look at him. “Feels longer.”

Emmett shared a nervous smile before it fell just as quick. “I um… I come bearing a message, My Lord. From Lady Brienne.”

The lion jumped up from his spot against the wall, eyes wide and heart slamming against his chest. “Is she alright?!” His voice was sharp, demanding, with not even an attempt to hide the fear that thickened his words. “Are they hurting her? How’s the baby?”

“They aren’t hurting her, My Lord,” he assured the lion. “No ones touched her.”

Jaime let out an audible sigh of relief, feeling the weight of a thousand pound anvil lifted off his shoulders. “She’s safe,” he said, more to himself than to the man standing in the doorway. “She’s not hurt...” He saw Emmett shift uncomfortably in his spot and any temporary relief was drowned. “What?” Jaime demanded. “What happened?”

He looked almost fearful to speak. “I-... They aren’t hurting her but… they’re starving her. I- I gave her a piece of chicken the other day,” he said quickly as if he would take the blame. “But they aren’t allowing her to eat.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes at the guard. No. No that wasn’t… He told them to give them half of his meals, this didn’t make sense.

“I told the guards to give her half of my meals...”

“She isn’t receiving any of them. They haven’t fed her in over a week.”

“Bullshit, I told them to feed her!” Jaime shouted. “I’ve been giving up half my meals for her, and they aren’t feeding her?!”

“No, My Lord. I-.”

Jaime kicked out at the stone wall, running his hands through his grimey hair. “Fuck! Fuck, I-... You need to get her food.” Not a request, an order. “You need to keep giving her food, you understand me?”

“I- I’ll try but if the Queen-.”

“You won’t try, you’ll do it.”

Emmett chewed at his lip, glancing at the door Jaime knew led into the long hallway where the black cells laid. “I’ll help her, My Lord.”

“Good.  And if you help her escape, I’ll give you a lordship.”

Emmett’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates. “My Lord, I-!”

“A lordship and Casterly Rock.”

The Others take his brother, the Others take his family line. If that's what it took to get Brienne out of the dungeons Jaime would gladly give up the Rock and his titles a thousand times over. Tyrion would understand.

Emmett swallowed hard, like a cow choking down her cud. “My Lord, I-.”

“You’ll be rich beyond your dreams. Lands, titles, women, however much you want of all of it.”

“My wife, she’s pregnant. If the Queen found out I helped Lady Brienne...”

_ Craven. _

He forced himself to take a deep breath. Insulting the only man who might be able to save her wouldn’t be a smart idea. “Did she have any other messages for me?”

“She did. She said to tell you that she loves you.”

Jaime smiled. “Tell her I love her too. And tell her...” He motioned to the four damp walls around him and grinned. “At least I’m inside this time.”

Even if he wasn’t able to help Brienne escape, Jaime decided in the following weeks that he would make House Swann the richest house in the Seven Kingdoms. Emmett passed messages to and from the other, all the while assuring Jaime he was sneaking Brienne food. She came to a realization that guilted Jaime more than what he did to Bran Stark, that it was his demands she be given half his meals that made the guards starve her. So the next time the guard came with the measly offering he took it with downcast eyes and a humble muttered thanks.

_ Let them think they’ve beaten me _ , he thought as he sat in the darkness afterwards.  _ If it gets Brienne food I’ll act as tame a housecat as they want me to be. _

The visits Emmett gifted him gave Jaime something he wouldn’t think he’d ever have again- hope that he might see each other again and something to look forward to other than a bowl of greasy watered down soup. He gave them conversations with each other, declarations of love, dreams that they knew were like to never come true. One day, a month after the door slammed behind him for the first time, Emmett told him of her fears when it came to  the baby.

He told Jaime how terrified she was that babe slowed down and wasn’t moving as much. Jaime told him to tell her it was normal, that Myrcella and Tommon both slowed down when Cersei was around six months and that she shouldn’t worry. Their baby was healthy and fine and Brienne shouldn’t stress herself about this or listen to anyone who said otherwise.

The moment Emmett left him alone Jaime collapsed into a heap on the floor and wept. He begged the Mother for a drop of Her mercy not for himself but for Brienne and their cub, praying and hoping that it was in fact normal for the baby to not move as much as she did in the earlier weeks and not just a lie he made up to help her feel better.

Several days later their envoy came back, looking more nervous than usual.

“What’s wrong?” Jaime demanded the moment the torchlight illuminated his guilt-ridden face. “What happened?”

Emmett swallowed his fear. “Lady Brienne had- had a vistor the other day,” he stammered out.

“Who? Lady Sansa? Lord Tyrion? The Queen.”

He shook his head. “The Lord of Tarth, he-.”

“The Lord of Tarth is dead,” Jaime said frankly. “And the Lady of Tarth sits in a dungeon. The man you speak of is a traitor.”

“I, the-... Lord Hayden, he came to Lady Brienne and he-...”

“What?” Jaime demanded, fear clutching at his heart. If he hurt her or the baby… “What did he do?”

“He… He proposed marriage.”

“He murdered her father,” he growled, as if it was the Swann who proposed.

“I know, My Lord. But… He offered to free her, he’s going to give her child his name.”

… Oh.

The anger faded from his heart and expression and a sad kind of joy replaced it. Brienne would be freed, Joanna wouldn’t be sent to Essos, she would live in Tarth. If Brienne didn’t have another child then their daughter would be the Lady of Tarth. But she would be stuck with a man who murdered her father as a husband, who would be cruel to her, who wouldn’t treat her the way she deserved.

Jaime swallowed that hard lump stuck in his throat. “I see… When-...  Is she already out?”

Emmett shook his head. “She turned him down.”

“She WHAT?! Why?!”

“Lady Brienne agreed to the marriage offer but she wanted him to free you as well. He wouldn’t so they’re at a bit of a stand-off.”

“Stupid  _ bloody  _ stubborn wench!” Jaime kicked at the stone wall, running his hands through his hair before he whipped towards Emmett and jabbed a finger at him. “You go back and you tell that woman she’s not to worry about me. She’s to take the offer and forget about me, do you understand?”

“My Lord, I don’t think-.”

“I don’t care what you think!” shouted Jaime. “I don’t care what SHE thinks, she isn’t going to kill herself and risk our child for the likes of me, and you damned well better tell her that! Seven HELLS, Brienne!”

After Emmett left Jaime paced relentlessly back and forth, back and forth until his legs ached and his eyelids grew heavy. He laid down on the cold ground to sleep, his dreams full of Hayden stabbing Brienne with her father’s sword while she cried out for Jaime to save her, of his daughters bones burnt black and Daenerys standing beside them with a cruel and beautiful smile as smoke poured out of her mouth.

The next few days (weeks?) were the longest he had spent in these cells. Every minute he waited on word that Brienne had accepted Hayden’s offer, that she was to be Brienne Flatsun and to find out that daughter would never wear a lion on her chest. It came a week later. All Jaime had to do was look in Emmett’s eyes and he knew she had taken the offer. Brienne was going to marry the murderer who took her title from her and give her daughter his name.

There was a touch of jealous bitterness surrounding the news but mostly joy. Brienne was free. Their daughter safe. That was all he wanted. Her safety; ever since Locke had dragged her off kicking and screaming all Jaime wishes for her to be happy and save and she gifted it to herself. As long as she stayed far away from this place, as long as Jaime knew Joanna would suckle at her mother's breast and she would one day wield Oathkeeper, Jaime would live the rest of his days with a smile on his face until the day the guards found naught but a grinning corpse.

Jaime told Emmett he didn’t need to worry about visiting him anymore, the risk was no longer worth it. Who did he need to talk to? Brienne was leaving King's Landing, and more than like before the month was out the madness would win and Jaime would slam his head into the wall over and over until the Stranger came and took him like It should have done the day the castle fell on him. He just wished he could have seen Brienne one last time…

For the first time in five weeks, he slept peacefully that night. 

The days were getting harder to track. The hours as well. Perhaps he only thought he was sleeping or dreamt he was awake. One night, as Jaime sat there staring at the wall, a teary smile rose to his lips.

Yes. Tonight would be it. Tonight the Stranger would claim him, he was sure of it. His meals say untouched, his breathing was slow, his heart beats seemed a far fewer number… 

This was his time. 

Maybe the Gods would let him see his mother, Myrcella, Tommen and Cersei’s unborn babe before they sent him to hell to stand beside his father, sister and oldest son. He had to have done enough good in his life to warrant that at least right? He must have done something good in order to warrant Brienne loving him enough that he would be given a few minutes with his loved ones.

The thought brought a tired smile to his lips and green eyes closed, for what he was sure would be the last time…

“Jaime?”

And they opened again. 

The lion blinked. He felt solid, he felt alive, he felt real still. But he couldn’t be. Because Brienne was standing in front of him heavily pregnant, and she couldn’t have died pregnant, the Gods wouldn’t be that cruel to let that good a woman die without letting her hold her baby. Plus Brienne would be in heaven, she wouldn’t be here in this cold and drafty and dark Hell.

Plus why would the guard be standing behind her, arms crossed and blocking the doorway. If he was dead, why would there be guards in Heaven?

Unless…

“I’m alive?” he asked, looking up at her.

Brienne furrowed her brow, confused at the statement. “Of course you are,” she told him in that rich deep highborn voice he loved and lusted for.

Jaime closed his eyes as a tear leaked down his dirty face. The Gods heard his prayer. They were letting him see her one last time.

He stood, his feet wobbly as a babe, and immediately she had her arms wrapped around him and the next moment both of them she was breaking down in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears, almost too soft for him to hear. “I’m so sorry, Jaime, I didn’t-.”

“I know,” he told her, soft and gentle. “I know, and don’t you apologize. Don’t you ever apologize, you did the right thing…”

Jaime pulled away and laid his hand on her cheek, a sad smile on his lips when she placed her hand on top of his. “I… The Queen… she’s allowing me the chance to say goodbye to you. Before I go to Tarth. She… she was generous enough to hear my plea to say goodbye to the man who… who ruined my life.”

Brienne slowly moved his hand away in the same manner he did to her that night in Winterfell. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t even take a breath.

“I love you, Jaime. I always will but you… You’ve caused me too much grief. Grief I can’t continue to lie and say outweighs my love.”

Her words had dropped any tenderness. The torchlight burned low but Jaime could see the truth screaming in her big blue eyes.

“You’re the reason my father is dead,” she told him. He noticed she took a half step to the left, a step away from the torchlight of the guard. Jaime followed as subtle as he could. They did their tiny dance until their left sides were in complete shadow. “You left me for Cersei, you said you were better off if we never have met.” He watched her eyes; desperate and pleading. “I love you. I will always love you, I almost died for you half a hundred times but I’m-... I have someone else I have to think of now, someone more important than you.” She placed a hand on her stomach. Her eyes flickered down in what could have been a blink but Jaime knew her well enough to know better. He glanced down and saw it. A tiny corner of a tiny slip of paper in her hand. 

“I have my betrothed to think of, and my daughter… I can’t let my heart linger on a man whose done nothing but hurt me..

The lion swallowed hard and took a deep breath, forcing a bitterness into his tone that only would have fooled the simplest man, of which he prayed the guard was. “If that’s how you feel, Wench, then you better run along back to your peasant betrothed. You and your ugly bastard.” 

He spat at the ground beside her feet.

She went to hit him and he caught her hand easily, not letting go until he felt the piece of paper slide from her hand to his. Then she slapped him again, a world softer than what he knew she was capable of.

“I hope you rot in all Seven hell’s, Jaime Lannister!” she growled like the lioness she was meant to be. Sapphire eyes were screaming love while emeralds were shouting gratitude. “You deserve every bit of punishment the Queen has given you!”

Without another word Brienne turned and stormed from the black cell. The guard smirked, eyeing her backside she walked away. “You put a bag over her head, she wouldn’t be half bad.”

“Get out,” Jaime snarled, with true malice in his voice this time. The guard chuckled before he turned and walked away, the light leaving with him. The moment the door latches Jaime grabbed the paper he handed her and unfolded it with eager trembling hands.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and when they finally did, a smirk rose to his lips and a newfound life seemed to take hold of him.

Jaime Lannister was not going to meet the Stranger tonight. On the contrary, he was far too excited to even sleep much less did. When he finally did give into his tiredness though, he dreamt of the same images that were on the paper Brienne had slipped him.

A  bright and beautiful yellow sun dotted with sapphires shining down on a faceless wolf and a crowned stag...

Please Review :-)


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little time clarification- Hayden talked to Brienne the first time after four weeks in the dungeon, she was let out during the fifth week, talked to Jaime at his sixth week, and this chapter takes place four weeks after that so she is currently 34 weeks pregnant (8 ½ months)

“You’re upset with me.”

“I’m not, My Lord.”

“Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“There’s nothing bothering me, My Lord.”

Lord Tyrion shrugged carelessly. “Fine, keep your secrets. I just hope that if the plan goes wrong and we all die horrible painful deaths by dragon fire you won’t go to the Gods with any regrets.”

Podrick blinked at his former Lord once, twice, three times before he drank down the rest of the wine in his glass. He shifted guiltily in his chair. “I just… I don’t mean to offend, My Lord, truly I don’t. But-.”

“Did you know that there’s a common Northern saying that anything said before the word ‘but’ doesn’t count,”

Lord Tyrion interrupted with a glint of amusement in his pale green Lannister eyes. 

Podrick swallowed the fear he always had of speaking out against those in charge of him. “But… you didn’t help her.” He watched the mirth fade from Lord Tyrion’s  expression. “Lady Brienne was in that dungeon for five weeks, you’re the Hand and you didn’t help her. They were starving her, they-...” He lowered his voice as if his words could bring his worries to fruition. “What if her not eating hurt the baby?” 

He knew he shouldn’t make the small lion feel guilty about his lack of action but Brienne was the closest thing to family Podrick had left. Brienne looked out for her squire, she protected him, she saved his life (more than once) and Podrick loved her, in a strictly knightly/squire mother/son sort of way, and he knew she loved him in return, in the same non romantic fashion.

Podrick wished he could have protected her. He wished he could have protected her during the five weeks she was down in the dungeons but she was well guarded and the Queen didn’t trust her squire anymore then she trusted the tall blonde knight. She did grant permission to Hayden though, when he came back to court and told Her Grace he needed Brienne on his arm if he was to ever rule a peaceful Tarth. The Islanders were rebelling over the treatment of their Evenstars, and Brienne was the only thing that might subdue them, he explained. Daenerys gave him permission to ask for her hand and if the blonde knight agreed, and could prove to her that she was done with the Kingslayer and her treason (which she had done with a fierce slap when the Queen allowed her to say goodbye to Jaime), she would allow her freedom.

He trusted that murderer and traitor down there with Brienne. But Queen Daenerys’ Hand however…

“I tried, Pod,” said Tyrion, words flushed with guilt. “I tried to see her and my brother but she wasn’t allowing anyone to visit.”

“You could have blackmailed, you could have threatened the guards, you-... I’m sorry, My Lord but five weeks...”

Tyrion cocked his overly large head to the side. A flint of anger sparked in his eyes. “I threatened open rebellion to save Brienne’s life.”

“I know, My Lord, but-.”

“Not to mention Sansa and Jon both tried to see her and were denied the opportunity as well. Are you mad at them too or just the man who put one of my only friend’s left in this world in danger because I said he would rise up against the Queen solely on my orders in order to prevent her death?”

A hot flush was brought to Pods cheeks. “Sansa was heartbroken they wouldn’t let her see Lady Brienne. She did everything she could but the guards were being threatened and blackmailed...”

“So you believe Lady Sansa did everything  _ she _ could for her sworn shield but you don’t believe I did everything  _ I _ could as well for my would-be good-sister and niece?”

Guilt started to eat at the squire. He was wrong to get upset at Lord Tyrion. He knew he would have done whatever it took to see Brienne, to make sure she and his niece were safe if it were at all possible.

Podrick bowed his head for a moment before he lifted it again. “Forgive me, My Lord, I didn’t mean any offense.”

“Forgave and forgotten.” The look in Lord Tyrion's eye told the Squire otherwise but he didn’t press on. They had more important things to discuss. “You know your role for tonight?”

“I do, My Lord.”

Podrick had been told over and over what he was going to be doing. For the past month, every night, all he did was make the trip down to the docks, then sneak back up to the castle. Again and again until he could walk it blindfolded, and then from the rocky shore to the hidden passageway under the castle. It was a plan that he hadn’t been informed of until late in the process, after Sansa had written letters to and from her contacts , and Lord Selwyn and Tyrion had written to theirs and then those people had crossed paths and came up with THEIR plans... All done under the cover of coded messages sent by ravens and little southern birds, eager to take flight against the dragon who burned their nests.

“I still don’t understand why she can’t she just stay on the ship.” It felt like that was the hundredth time he brought it up since they told him the plan but it gripped him in terror every time he thought about it. “It’ll be too dangerous for her to be in the middle of all the fighting.”

“What’ll be dangerous for her is to be anywhere near Hayden when he finds out what’s happening.” Tyrion placed a hand on his former squires hunched shoulder. “She’ll be safe, Pod.” He was surprisingly gentle with his words. “Lady Brienne can handle herself, and the battle should be over fairly quickly.”

“But… what if we lose?”

Lord Tyrion gifted him a sad smile. The same one he wore before they fought the dead. Podrick thought he saw tears fill his former Lord’s eyes. “Then I’m going to miss my former squire very dearly.”

An hour passed. And then another and another, all spent accompanied by a tense nervous silence in his chambers after he left Tyrion’s. His things had already been taken down to the ship earlier in the day and his bed had been stripped of its linens and furs so he couldn’t even lay down. 

As he paced the floor his hand gripped the hilt of his blade; a longsword with a dark purple hilt embedded with gold coins and a smooth white round pommel with a gold coin in the center, the colors and sigil of House Payne. It was a good sharp piece of steel Podrick called Honor, named for the Lady Knight who had the gift made for the squire in Winterfell.

Podrick glanced out the dirty window at the sun starting to go down behind the horizon and his dinner, meager as it was, turned to a hard slab in his stomach.

It was time.

But he would not be afraid. He couldn’t be. He was a squire, his knight needed him to be strong. His Lady, his beautiful northern Lady, needed him to be brave. 

He wasn’t allowed to say goodbye to Sansa, he would just have to walk out of the Red Keep and meet up with Lady Brienne as if he wasn’t leaving half of his heart behind, even if he would be reuniting a few hours later. That was paramount, Lord Tyrion had said. The guards the Queen set to watching her would suspect something was afoot if they saw him twice in one night. Sansa even agreed that it would be best if they kept their distance for the time being.

That didn’t make it feel any less wrong to leave her behind though…

Podrick walked through the castle halls and winding corridors and down the steep staircases until he came out a side door to the eastern gate, the entryway closest to the Docks, where Brienne, who was sitting down on a stone wall, Maester Waldon and Hayden, flanked by his unwilling sapphire soldiers, were waiting for him. Her stomach was round and bulging, and the mail she wore was made for a man twice her size but it was hard finding good steel these days much less steel that would accommodate her growing size. Her scabbard rested on top of her belly with a soft bit of cushioning underneath that she jerry-rigged to keep the hard leather from cutting into her skin, Oathkeeper worn on one side and her green and gold colored dagger on the other. She wore no smile, no sadness, nothing but a determined look in her big blue eyes.

Hayden stood beside his betrothed, arms crossed over his chest, wearing all the rose and azure finery a Lord of Tarth could want. 

“You’re late,” Hayden grumbled.

“Leave him be,” said Brienne sharply. “He’s my squire, you won't be chastising him.”

“What’s yours is mine,” he told her with a smirk. “Including your squire.”

Brienne rolled her eyes before she held out her arms and Podrick raced over to help. She reached behind her and rubbed the small of her back. “I’ll be so glad when this is over,” she groaned. “I just want to meet her and be done with-.”

“Him.”

Brienne turned towards Hayden as the four of them made their way down to the busy pier. “Pardon?”

“I know you’ve said you think you’re having a girl but I have a strong feeling that it's gonna be a boy.”

Another silent roll of her eyes but she played the expected part as they brushed past sailors hurrying to and fro. “Perhaps, My Lord. Whichever it is, I’ll just be happy to stop being pregnant so I can meet them, I can hold them, start nursing...”

Hayden raised a sandy blonde brow at the tall knight. “Nurse them?”

“Yes. I’m going to feed them myself.”

He shook his head. The small group headed towards a large ship with the quartered rose and azure of Tarth on its sails. “You’ll be getting a wet nurse.”

He saw her purse her plump lips. “I've made the decision not to partake in that tradition, My Lord.”

“Well I’ve made the decision that you don’t have much in the way of teats and I won’t have your bastard, sorry,  _ our _ son, ruin whatever you have left.”

Lady Brienne face blushed as crimson as the Lannister sigil and Podrick gripped the hilt of Honor tighter. She didn’t meet her squires eyes for the rest of the walk down the pier, nor did she say another word against her betrothed. She didn’t say anything until they reached the gang plank when she suddenly cried out in pain and clutched at her swollen stomach. She would have dropped to the floor if she didn’t have such a strong grip on the rope.

“My Lady!” Podrick cried as he caught her arm and helped her stand. Waldon raced over and stood in front of her.“Are you alright, My Lady?”

Brienne’s legs were shaky and unstable. “I- I’m fine.” Her usual steadfast voice trembled in fear. “I- GAH!” She gripped her stomach tighter. “The baby!” she breathed, her words on the edge of terror. “The baby, something-...” Brienne lurched forward, her brow furrowed for a moment.  “Something’s happening…” she breathed, almost confused.

Hayden glanced around at the large curious group who had stopped to stare at the loud tall woman. His face had gone an ugly blotchy red. 

“Walk!” he hissed through his teeth. Brienne tried to stand, only to cry out and fall to her knees on the gangplank. He stormed over to her, pushing the older man out of the way to stare down at her. “I said get up and walk! You’re embarrassing me!”

“She needs help!” Podrick barked at the man, not bothering with usual courtesy. One of the Tarth guards, a large young burly man with hair dark blonde hair who stood only a few inches shorter than Brienne, abandoned his spot besides Hayden and rushed over to grab her arm to throw it around his shoulder.

“You’re alright, M’lady,” the man grumbled in a tone that normally would have been harsh but Podrick could tell he was making it as gentle as he could. “I gotcha.”

“The baby!” she gasped again, loudly. “I think- I think she’s coming!”

“We need to get her into her chambers,” Waldon said with an authority and command in his voice the others couldn’t help but obey. Brienne bit her lip to choke back a ragged scream. “Now!”

Podrick grabbed her other arm and assisted the tall guard with getting the knight onto the boat. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a hooded man in the crowd watching them stagger up the wooden plank and onto the ship. Podrick held back a smile as he saw the spy witness the small group help a very noticeably distressed Lady Brienne onto the ship where, surely, she or the companions assisting her wouldn’t be part of any conspiracy. Not with there being something wrong with the baby, and all…

They managed to get her onto the cabin they designated for the birthing room and onto the bed. Brienne was clutching at her stomach and gasping in pain, fists clenched tight.

“I need everybody out,” Waldon commanded the onlookers sharply as he put his bag onto the desk beside the bed. “Everyone but…” He looked around the room. “Podrick. You’ll assist me.”

“Me? I- I don’t-.”

Brienne’s pained scream cut off his words. 

“Start a fire to boil water,” Waldon demanded him. He turned to look at Hayden who was hanging back near the doorway. “I’m going to need you to leave, My Lord. If preterm labor is any indication, it’s going to be a hard and dangerous birth. Podrick glanced over and saw something different in her deep blue eyes. The fear in them actually looked… real. “And tell the captain we’re not to sail until after the birth, if there’s rough waters ahead…”

After a moment the Evenstar nodded curtly. “Keep her alive,” said Hayden. For half a second Podrick thought it an uncharacteristic romantic statement. “I don’t care about the bastard, but I need her alive to stake my claim.”

Waldons spotted hands curled into fists. “I’ll do my best,  _ My Lord _ .”

Hayden ignored the insolence in his tone, for now, and left, slamming the door behind him.

Podrick hurried over to the door, putting his ear against the wood and waited until he heard the footsteps fade away before announced they were in the clear.

Brienne’s cries of pain and Waldons barking orders were silenced immediately. 

“Her spies had to have noticed,” she muttered, too soft for anyone that might be listening outside to hear, caressing her round stomach. “There’s no way they’ll expect anything to happen, not from us at least.”

Waldon nodded his agreement and Podrick shifted nervously. This was his last chance to get her to turn back. “My Lady, perhaps it would be safer if you went with Lady Sansa-.”

“No.” Her words were we sharp as the Valerian steel she carried. “I won’t hide when I can fight.”

“You’re almost nine months pregnant, My Lady. Let others do the fighting for once.”

“I’ve never run away from a fight and I won’t start now.” She took a deep breath and with a concentrated effort she stood up from the bed without assistance as if to prove her vitality and stoutness was just as prominent now as it was nine months ago. Her blue eyes were brimming with more strength than even the Warrior possessed. “I’m tired of Kings and Queens trying to kill Jaime. I’m tired of Kings and Queens taking away people I care about. I’m tired of Kings and Queens, especially the murderous one sitting on the throne, trying to take away my happiness. I don’t care how pregnant I am, I’m going to fight, Podrick. It ends today.”

They waited until nightfall. Podrick and Waldon stayed in the birthing cabin with her, telling curious passerbyers that she was in too much pain to deal with the rocky seas or to see anyone and that the captain couldn’t pull away yet or for the next few hours. While he was doing that, Brienne and Podrick armed themselves and slipped through the reason Waldon choose this room; a stowaway passage that led to an abandoned storeroom and from there it was a quick staircase to the gangplank where under cover of darkness and heavy black cloaks which made Brienne look like an overweight man rather than a pregnant woman, they would make their way back into the castle.

Podrick watched her out of the corner of his eye as they walked through the hidden passageways Tyrion told them about, one of the only ones not destroyed in the destruction of Kingslanding. She was even more slower than usual and every so often she would stop to take a breath while her fist clenched and her eyes would close for a moment before she forced herself onwards, not saying a word. 

When they were halfway down the corridor Brienne bit her lip as she lurched forward, biting back a cry and would have fallen, for real, if Podrick hadn't caught her.

“You weren’t faking,” he accused her as he steadied his knight on her feet. “That was real pain earlier.”

“Not all of it,” she gasped. She grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed, hard. “Fuck…”

 “I’m taking you back to the ship.”

“No.”

“My Lady-.”

“No!” she choked out. “We go through-!” She bit her lip to choke back a scream before she looked down. Podrick followed her eyes and there in the torchlight he saw a large damp spot in the front of her breeches and fluid dripping down her leg. 

“Not now,” she begged, either to herself or Podrickor the life inside her he couldn’t be sure. “Please not now…”

Podrick gripped her arm and tried to twist her around to head back out of the corridor. “I’m taking you back to the ship.”

Brienne pulled out of his grasp as easy as moving her hand through the air. “We go through with the plan.”

“Your water just broke!”

“I can still fight!”

“You’re in labor!”

“I’m fine!” she insisted. Brienne remained hunched over for a moment before she forced herself to straighten out. “The… the Maesters say that you don’t have to worry until the pain is less than two minutes apart…”

“Well how far apart are they?”

Brienne bit her lip and guilt seemed to overwhelm her. “They’ve been five minutes apart since we left the ship.”

“My Lady-!”

“We go through with the plan! You get Lady Sansa to safety, you-!” 

“No!”

He never outwardly defied her like this, and the shock that registered in her features Podrick was sure mirrored his. He took a deep breath to calm his already frazzled nerves. “You’re going to end up hurting yourself, My Lady,” he pleaded calmly. “Please, just head back to the ship.”

“You would leave Sansa in the black cells?” she demanded once the shock of her squire standing up to her faded. “You would sit idly by and let her stay down there while others fought for you?”

“No, but-.”

“Then please, Podrick. Don’t ask me to do the same for Ser Jaime. Get yourself and Lady Sansa to safety. Don’t worry about me.”

“My Lady-.”

“You’re a loyal squire, Podrick,” she cut him off again, her tone as sharp as ever but there was an unusual warmth in her eyes. “You promised to do what I say. Right now, I’m ordering for you to save Lady Sansa and get yourself to a ship.”

Without waiting for a response she turned on the heel of her gifted boots and made her way down the corridor.

_ Are all knights this bloody stubborn? _ he thought to himself as he followed her through the passageways and to the hidden door at the end.  _ Or did I just get incredibly unlucky? _

Podrick watched as she leaned against the wall, shutting her eyes tight and biting back a cry of pain as she gasped for breath. Podrick took hold of her hand and allowed her to squeeze until it was crimson and ached until the pain passed.

“My Lady,” he begged her as she drew her sword. “Please… Please reconsider.” 

“You get to Sansa,” she told him, ignoring his plea, tasking shaking breaths that didn’t seem to want to come. “You keep her safe, you keep yourself safe . Do you understand me? Now… Kneel.”

He blinked. “My Lady?”

“Kneel, Podrick.”

His face fell and his heart sped up to almost punishing speeds. His brow became damp with sweat as he kneeled on the dirty stone floor in the crowded corridor and looked up at her. He saw her swallow her nerves before she took Oathkeeper and laid it on his right shoulder.

“In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.” She moved it to his left and lightly touched the steel to his armor. “In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just.” Her hand shook, but only for a moment as she rested it on his right shoulder again. “In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent.”

Podrick could barely see through the tears in his eyes as he gazed up at the woman who gave him the world. “Arise, Podrick Payne; a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.”

As he stood a smile graced his lips that she returned eagerly. “Do your duty, Ser,” she told him, her final words before she hurried out of the passageway and headed left. Ser Podrick Payne took a deep breath before he climbed out and took a sharp right, his staircase leading up while Brienne’s led her down. 

When he got to the landing where Sansa’s chambers were Podrick pulled the hood of his cloak up and looked down at the floor as to not draw attention to himself. He looked on from behind a corner at the two guards Daenerys put there after she caught Sansa trying to sneak food down to Brienne. He hardened his nerves, stuck his chest out and walked as bold as he pleased over to the guards, hoping they were two that hadn’t seen him before.

“Who goes there?” the unsullied, a tall lanky man demanded in the common tongue with a thick Essoian accent as Podrick hung back in the dark shadows. 

“Queen wants to see Lady Sansa,” he said in a gruff Fleabottom accent.

“For what?” the second guard, a solidly built Dothraki asked as sharp as the akarah he held. 

“You think it’s my place to question the Queen?” he snapped back. He forced a grin he hoped would be convincing. “Heard barbaqued wolf bitch’ll be on the menu tonight though.”

Their faces remained as hard as stone. “Why didn’t she send Unsullied?” the Horselord asked. “Or Dothraki? Why is she sending Westerosi to fetch the wolf?”

“I was the first person she saw,” he answered, wanting to flinch at the slight stammer in his words. He watched as their fists gripped their weapons tighter and his went to the hilt of his sword.

“Lies!” The unsullied barked. “What’s your name? Who are you?”

A moment later Sansa wrenched open the door. “What is going on out here?”

Podrick hoped they wouldn’t notice the boots on under her dressing gown.

“Get back in your room!” the horselord barked at the Stark. 

“Tell me what’s happening.”

The unsullied grabbed Sansa’s arm and went to push her back into her chambers. Podrick drew his sword, tossing away his cloak and holding it aloft. “Let the Lady go,” he ordered the slave soldier in his most commanding voice. 

The Dothraki lifted his arakh, parting his lips to sound the alarm but Podrick twisted himself out of the way of the curved blade and swung Honor down and up, catching the Dothraki right below his raised arm and following through until the Horselord crumpled to the ground, brown eyes wide and unmoving. 

Podrick pulled the sword back just in time to catch the end of the unsullied spear coming down. He pushed back the pointed weapon with a loud grunt and stepped in, swinging Honor back and forth, catching the speedy blow while Sansa stood in her doorway, usual cool green eyes alive with terror.

The newly made knight swung his sword with all his might, the clash it made when it hit the spears shaft making his teeth chatter but he wasted no time as he swung the sword round and round the spear, as fast as he could, just like Brienne taught him half a hundred times before he yanked up as hard as he could, pulling the spear from the slave soldiers hands and sent it clattering to the floor.  The Unsullied fumbled for the dagger at his waist but Podrick thrust the point of Honor forward into the Unsullied’s throat and out the back of his neck, the steel cutting through skin and muscle and spraying the wall behind him with blood. 

Knowing all the fighting would bring more guards sooner rather than later Podrick grabbed hold of Sansa's hand and the two of them ran down the hallway away from her cage.

The two of them hurried down the stairs and just as they reached the passage beneath the floorboards, Podrick heard a scream from several stories above them that sounded very suspiciously like a servant that just discovered two bodies slumped down on the floor outside the Lady of Winterfell’s room. He helped Sansa down and shut the covering above them, leaving them in total darkness sans the torch he carried earlier and a heavy silence. Podrick took a moment to catch his breath and slow his heart, a useless endeavor since his lungs stopped working and his heart pounded against his chest when Sansa laid a dainty hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Podrick,” she told him. A rare smile framed her lips and his heart beat faster. “I’m forever in your debt.”

“No thanks is necessary, I promise My Lady. But, if you please…” 

She cocked her head to the side. “What?”

He grinned at the tall redhead. “It’s Ser Podrick now.”

Sansas Tully eyes grew wide with shock for a moment before she wrapped him in a fierce hug. He stood frozen for a moment before he returned the embrace, burying his head in her hair and inhaled. Even here in the capital she smelled like clear blue ice and new fallen snow and a perfume one would never be able to find south of the neck. 

She smelled like the North.

“I’m so proud of you!” she told him, still not letting go. “When, who, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Lady Brienne just did it a few minutes ago before I came up to get you. Right here in this passage way actually.” He reluctantly pulled away from her and wore his dorkiest smile. “Which means my first knightly act was slaying two guards to rescue a fair Lady from the clutches of an evil queen… not a bad first twenty minutes of being a knight.

Sansa laughed, actually laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound Podrick ever heard. He had a terrible sinking feeling that his Lady hadn’t laughed in a very long while… 

She rested her hands on his face and Podrick swallowed hard. He had been with other women but Sansa was different. He didn’t just want to take her to bed, he wanted to wake up beside her, he wanted to protect her, he wanted to make sure she smiled, he wanted to make sure she  _ laughed _ … He wanted to marry her.

“Ser Podrick…” His heart skipped a beat when she used his new title. 

“Yes, My Lady?” he breathed.

“I-.”

Another crash came only a few floors above them and she ripped her hand away from his face as if the intimacy had been what caused it. Podrick gripped her hand again, holding the torch aloft. 

“Come on,” he said, more determined then the last few minutes. “We need to get to the ship.”

She agreed with a curt nod and allowed Podrick to lead her out of the winding twisting tunnel. The air grew cooler and thinner as they reached the door leading to a small fisherman’s shack near the edge of the rocky shore of the Blackwater. They walked a ways alongside the shore until they came to a small hidden rowboat Tyrion procured for them. After pushing it to the edge of the water, Podrick helped Sansa into the dingy before he got in himself, pushing off the shore and began rowing straight back, just like Tyrion told him too. 

When they were a ways out, dotted out in the water was large rowboats full of Northern soldiers and Baratheon knights, all of them, more than a hundred boats, all silently creeping towards the shore, all bursting with armed men ready for battle. And, at the head of the column leading the charge was Gendry with his hammer and Arya with her needle at his side, the latter looking over at the the only boat rowing towards the ship they launched from rather than away from it, and smiling at her pack mate she hadn’t seen in months.

Podrick kept rowing until, hidden amongst the fog and darkness of a dreary night, he saw not one but three warships, all three of them flying sails with grey wolves and black stags, silver trout and white falcon, even a golden lion although thanks to the purge of lions, the battle of goldroad, and the wars they fought all those years prior there was few and far crimson armor spotted amongst the rest but they were there nevertheless, sailed down from Lannisport to meet up with former enemies to once again be part of another sack on their capital on the word of their stunted Lord. 

Podrick pulled up alongside the biggest one beside a rope ladder that had been dropped waiting for their arrival. Podrick bit his lip as he looked back at the castle then at the ship that offered safety. He glanced down at his sword, at Honor, and turned back to Sansa who just gave him a soft often unseen smile before she leaned forward and kissed him.

Podrick froze for a moment before he melted into his kiss, holding the Lady of Winterfell tightly as the tiny boat swayed on the waves. Her lips were soft as velvet and tasted as sweet as honey and all Podrick wanted was to stay here and kiss her until the castle he was about to return to turned to dust from the ages.

Sansa pulled away first and laid a hand on his cheek again. Podrick brought his hand up and placed it on hers.

“Come back to me, my true knight,” she told him.

“I will, My Lady,” he promised. “I swear it, I just… I can’t sit idly by and let her fight alone.”

Sansa smiled. “I would never forgive you if you did, Ser.”

Podrick held the boat steady as Sansa stood. He watched as she climbed the ladder until she disappeared into the fog and waited until he heard a pair of footsteps hit the deck to start rowing back to the shore.

When he reached the rocky sands and started his sprint back to the castle, he heard the bells start to ring and the clashes of steel.

It’s begun.

  
  


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	30. Chapter 30

Jaime always hated the cold. The North had its own special kind of cold, a savage kind of cold that cut through your mail and armor like knives. But at the end of the day, he could curl up under thick furs in a room with a roaring fire that blazed constantly while he and Brienne huddled together for warmth and comfort. When he was lucky enough that the tasks the wolves set for him to do didn’t involve him going outside he stayed as close to the fire as possible or at least the wall, where the ancient northern builders managed to get hot water to flow through the stone.

Here though, in the black cells, he never had a reprieve. It wasn’t as biting as the North, but it was a constant wet cold that sank deep into his bones and muscles. But there was no blankets, no fireplace, no tall blonde knight to cuddle up to at night, not even a pile of musty straw he could crawl under. Just cold damp stone and thin clothes whose rotting fibers were starting to make him gag. When he was awake, (or he thought he was awake. He may have only been dreaming he was awake and the terrors of his nightmares he faced could have been his mind slipping into madness while he laid awake) he thought of the oceans of Tarth, a bright sun beaming down on him and Brienne while they lounged on the hot white sand of the sapphire beaches. Winter rarely came to Tarth, Brienne told him. Her island had storms not snow, and when she was a girl she would sit in her chambers with a hot cup of cider and listen to the waves crash against the shores and the low roll of thunder. 

Jaime pictured that now. Her and him wrapped in one another’s arms with cups of hot spiced wine while their cub played at their feet and the warmth of the fireplace in their chambers washing over them, listening to the rain pound against the flawless white marble of Evenfall.

It was a beautiful dream, but only that. A dream that was like to never come true. 

He lost track of the days but he knew it had been at least a few weeks since Brienne slipped him the note saying a rescue was coming and there was no word from her since. Had she forgotten him? Did Hayden have her tied up in their chambers, and forbid her from seeing him? Or was their plot discovered by the Queen and all that was left of her and his child was a pile of charred black bones?

No. No, he couldn’t think like that. He would have known if she was gone, he would have felt it. She was alive, Jaime knew she was, she  _ and _ their cub. Besides if Daenerys killed his knight and cub she would have come down to the dungeons to brag. She would have watched the light leave his eyes, she would have reveled at the fact she took everything from him just like he took away her family dynasty. Daenerys would want to see the moment Jaime had nothing else left to live for…

It was a solid thought, in theory, but now every time the guard came with food his heart skipped a beat, thinking it was the Queen come to deliver the grave news with a devilish smile. But it was only ever the guard, this Edmure from the Riverlands who still held a grudge against him for not only the threat Jaime made to his liege lord but for helping to give back the castle to the Freys.

_I should have_ _just let the Tully’s keep their bloody castle,_ he told himself every time Edmure delivered either the watery soup or the blows from his fists. _I should have just listened to Brienne._

As it so often did, his mind replayed the night he left her, the night he made the biggest mistake of his life. Jaime told her that he would have killed every man, woman and child in Riverrun to her back to Cersei. But what he should have said, what should have kept him in Winterfell with her, was the fact that while he may have killed for Cersei, he spared the lives of every man, woman and child in that keep for Brienne. He may have pushed a ten year old boy out of a tower for Cersei, but he jumped into a bear pit for Brienne. He may have killed his cousin for Cersei, but he lost his hand for Brienne.

And he would again. A hundred times over. 

Just as Jaime was starting to think there was no hope left Emmett came to him with one simple word on his nervous stammering tongue.

“Tomorrow.”

When pressed for more details Emmett just stuttered and said Brienne told him just the one word. No other plans or any information, just ‘tomorrow.’

Even with the excitement brewing Jaime still slept. He had no sense of time or hours or anything of the like but one moment he was asleep, the next he awoke to the glorious sounds of men shouting, dying gasps of breath and steel clashing against steel and, he prayed to the Seven he was wrong, that familiar battle yell he heard in his dreams and nightmares.

No… no she wouldn’t… she had to be close to nine months now, she wouldn’t fight.

The sound of the key in the lock and the sound of the tumblers turning made him jump to his feet and then there in the flames of the torchlight was his Lady-Knight, gasping for breath, clutching her swollen stomach with one hand while the other held a blood stained Oathkeeper.

“You stupid bloody wench,” he breathed, racing over to her and grabbing her by the face and slamming his lips against hers. She kissed him back for only a moment before she cried out and pushed him away, nearly falling to her knees. Jaime caught her by the arm and hoisted her to her feet, eyes wide and terror flooding him.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded. 

She shook her head, clutching his hand like a lifeline. “The baby!” Brienne gasped. She let out a painful grunt and nearly dropped to her knees again. “She’s coming!”

It was then Jaime noticed the large wet stain on the front of her breeches. “You’re in labor?!” She nodded frantically, willing herself to take fast short breaths like her Maester told her to do. Brienne beared down harder on his hand. “You’re in labor and you’re attempting a rescue?”

“If you could save the chastising for later instead of right now that would be bloody brilliant!” she hissed, handing him a sword she had taken off one of the guards. 

Jaime waited until it looked like the pain had come to pass before he grabbed her arm and threw it over his shoulder. The two of them walked as fast as they were able, out of the corridor of Black cells and into the long winding staircase, the sounds of shouting and running hurried footsteps above them. One body was slumped dead in the doorway with its throat cut open and another laid at a strange angle at the food of the stairs which looked more like it had been shoved down the steps then stabbed. In the distance the bells had begun to ring.

_ Please don’t come down here _ , he begged the Father, the Mother, the Northern Gods and every other God there was, which promptly meant, of course, that the door at the top of the stairs were opened and Edmure and another guard came flying down the steps, swords in hand. He took one look at her face, her mournful apologetic face and he knew the truth even if she couldn’t bring herself to say it. 

The pain was too much now, she couldn’t fight. She wouldn’t be able to help him this time.

“Go!” Brienne yelled at him. She gasped in pain and clutched at her stomach, barely having the strength to hold herself up and she slid halfway down the stone wall. “Jaime, go!”

Hating himself for following her orders and leaving her, Jaime dashed up the stairs sword in hand.  The man charged at him with the blade upheld, going to his foreswing and following it with a backswing. Jaime dodged the first and met the second with his own borrowed sword. The weight of the thing sent his opponent’s blade back, back, back…but not far enough to knock the blade free of his hands. Edmure grunted as he slashed at him and Jaime took a step back as the three swords met in the air again and again. 

_ I nearly beat her after being out of practice for a year, I can win against these two easy _ , he told himself. He didn’t quite believe in his own words but knevertheless they spurred him on and gave the one handed man the confidence he told himself he needed.

The second guard, raised his sword and brought it down. This arcing shot sliced the fabric of Jaime’s shirt at the midsection. It missed the flesh behind it by perhaps an inch and Jaime repaid the kindness by whipping his steel through the air so fast it whistled only his didn’t miss and instead caught the guard in the gut. The blood steamed as it flowed like a river down his stomach as the man crashed to the floor and tumbled down the steps. 

One down.

Edmure snarled at his former prisoner and advanced. Jaime swung and missed then swung and missed again. As he lifted his sword to swing a third time he heard a muffled cry of pain, one he knew was meant to be hidden to keep him from being distracted but he couldn’t help himself. He whipped around and saw Brienne sinking even lower to the ground, hands shaking as they caressed her stomach. “Brienne!” he yelled, taking a step towards her. Brienne whipped her head up to look at him and her blue eyes went as wide as plates.

“Jaime, look out!” she screamed. He twisted around and barely caught the edge of the swing. Edmure pushed back hard enough on the sloppy block that Jaime lost his footing and fell, tumbling down several stairs. The crash left him gasping for breath and stars danced before him. He felt strong but gentle hands grab him and yank him to his feet and he forced the focus he needed back. He came too just in time to see Edmure advancing on them. He dropped his sword too far away to reach for it and by the smirk on the guards face he knew it too.

“After I kill you I’m gonna cut that baby out of the bitch,” the guard snarled, walking closer to the pair. Brienne raised Oathkeeper but it only took a half hearted smack with his sword to get her to drop it and that simple move seemed to drain all the strength from her and she let Jaime drop to the floor before she fell back against the wall gasping in pain.

Edmure snickered at the feeble attempt before he turned back to Jaime. He raised his sword, rubies of blood gleaming in the candlelight and then, with a loud cry, Brienne lurched forward, striking him between the ribs with a green and gold hilted dagger she had hidden beneath her cloak, striking him again and again until the light left his eyes.

“You could have let him think you were unarmed without dropping me,” Jaime groaned as he picked up Oathkeeper and handed it back to her as well as the borrowed steel she gave him. He put her arm around his bruised shoulders. 

She didn’t respond. She could barely breathe, it was all he could do to get her to walk. And when the door to the dungeons opened again tears filled her eyes .

“I can’t…” Brienne whispered, closing her eyes and slumping against him. Jaime raised his sword, ready to kill again when the torches on the wall showed who it was that was running down the stairs. He lowered his steel, wanting to kiss the man rather than fight him.

“My Lady!” Podrick cried as he raced towards them, and when she heard the voice of her young charge Brienne's eyes flew open, flooding with tears of relief. 

“Podrick,” she breathed, actually managing a smile for a moment before she cried out in pain again and lurched forward. Podrick caught her in the nick of time and threw her other arm around his shoulders, taking Oathkeeper from the blonde knight and and sheathing it in its ruby encrusted scabbard.

“Where’s Lady Sansa?” Brienne asked as the three of them made their way up the steps once the pain had passed. “Is she safe?”

“She’s safe, she’s on the ship,” Podrick assured her and Jaime felt a little bit of the tenseness in her shoulders lift. “I’m taking you there now.”

The way he said it, Jaime had a feeling it wasn’t the first time tonight Podrick brought up Brienne being taken to some ship, but he did have an inkling that this was the first time Brienne didn’t argue and instead she just nodded and forced one foot in front of the other until they were on the landing. 

“How’d you manage to get down here?” Jaime asked as the three of them hid in the shadows. 

“Secret passageway,” Podrick explained, brown eyes darting around for signs of soldiers or guards. “Down three hallway, three doors to the left and under a hidden door. From there it's a straight shot to the beach where the forces landed and a ship straight back to the main galley.”

Forces. That must be what’s all the fighting and bells ringing was about.

“How many men do we have?” asked Jaime. 

“7,000 knights of the Vale, Northerners and soldiers from the Trident, 5,000 Baratheons and a little less than a thousand Lannisters” Podrick answered. He tensed when he heard the sound of steel on steel then a man’s dying screams but he did not budge from beneath the tall blonde who was struggling to support her own weight the longer they stood.

Jaime bit his lip. 13,000 men. Daenerys’ Dothraki were 6,000 strong and a little more than 5,000 Unsullied remained under her command. There was more Westerosi but her men hadn’t been at war for close to ten years and had been born and bred for battle. Most Westeros soldiers were farmers and pikemen with a handful of knights scattered in. 

Their side would need every man they could get.

“Take her to the ship,” Jaime ordered the young boy. He ignored the frightened blue eyes of the blonde. “Keep her safe, I’ll be there as soon as the fighting is done.” 

Before he could even take a step Brienne grabbed his arm so tight he thought it might break. He turned to look at her and he saw tears overflowing her wide eyes.

“Stay with me,” she begged him, her voice shaking like a leaf in a hurricane while tears streamed down her pale marred cheek. “Please. Stay. Jaime, I’m afraid,” she finally admitted with a sob, clutching at her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak again but instead she threw her head back and bit back a scream. Podrick and Jaime were holding almost all of her weight now. She opened her eyes and desperate sapphires found anxious, unsure emeralds. “Don’t leave me again…”

Her words was a dagger to the heart and five times as painful. He left her once and it almost cost him everything. His last view of her would have been her sobbing in the snow as he rode off and now if he left again, if he left her while she was truly frightened for what was about to come, begging him to make the right choice this time and stay with her… She would never forgive him. He would never forgive himself.

Jaime gnawed at his lip for a moment before he gave her a curt nod and put her arm over his shoulder again. He almost wanted to cry at the relief that flooded her features as she clung to him. “Come on,” he told her, making sure the coast was clear before they hurried as fast as they dared go. They only made it a few steps when Brienne cried out in pain and nearly fell to the floor. Jaime grabbed her by the mail and yanked her back to her feet, looking around desperately to make sure they weren’t heard. She was biting her lip so fiercely a line of red was streaming down her chin as she fought not to cry out.

“She’s coming!” she gasped. A sweat had broken out on her brow.

“If she goes down, I don’t know if I can carry her all the way,” Podrick admitted in a low whisper as if to keep Brienne, who was far too busy writing in pain to care about a minor insult, from hearing. “I… I’ve helped someone give birth before,” he admitted. “I could do it again.”

Jaime glanced around quickly and nodded to the closed door a few steps away. “Grab her legs.”

Jaime put his hands under her armpits and waited until Podrick had a hold of her legs before both men lifted her up and made their way into the room the knight indicated. When he opened the door and the two of them brought her inside, he had to bite back a laugh

Of course he would pick the guards bathhouse…

“Lay her down,” Jaime commanded and they set her down besides one of the stone tubs. “Get a bucket of water to boil over one of the torches and the cleanest towels they have.” Jaime ran over and grabbed a wash cloth and hurried back. “Bite down,” he told her, handing her the washcloth. “Bite down, Brienne...”

She looked up at him. Her eyes were wide and full of a terror he never expected to see belong to the Lady Knight. “Jaime… Jaime, she's early…”

“She’ll be fine,” he promised, smoothing her hair away from her face. “You’re far enough along that it’ll be alright, she’ll be fine.”

He prayed to the Mother that it wasn’t just a well intentioned lie.

Rather Brienne believed him or not she couldn’t say because she suddenly stuffed the washcloth in his mouth and a scream ripped past her lips, muffled by the cheap thin cloth. He looked over and saw Podrick fumbling with the bucket and he furrowed his brow. He laid a kiss on her brow once the screaming passed. “I’ll be right back.”

He walked over to Podrick, lowering his voice so she couldn’t hear. 

“You’ve said you’ve done this before.”

“I have, Ser.”

“How many times?”

Podrick but his lip anxiously. He refused to lift his head. “Once.”

“Once?”

“On a goat.”

“A goat?!”

He turned to meet Jaime’s agast eyes. “She lived.” 

Jaime’s hand twitched and Brienne’s cries of pain was enough of a distraction that Podrick was able to hurry past him without getting slapped. He kneeled in front of  Brienne’s legs and her blood soaked dagger made quick work of her breeches and small clothes. 

Jaime ran his hands through his hair as a panic began to creep up on him. He just escaped prison and killed a man to do so, his betrothed was about to give birth in a bathhouse several weeks early while the castle they were in was currently being sacked, and her squire, whose only experience in birthing involved a goat, was serving as the midwife.

“Seven save us,” he muttered to himself, forcing several deep breaths into his lungs to calm himself before he rushed back to Brienne, sitting behind her and propping her up against his chest. He reached out and held her hand, letting her squeeze as tight as she could.

“My Lady, I… I think I see the head,” Podrick stammered out, looking at Jaime as if he could confirm what his eyes were seeing.  “So I’m.. gonna need you to push?” 

He looked towards Jaime again who rolled his eyes and glanced down at Brienne. “Push when you feel pain,” he told her, mirroring what the Midwives told Cersei years ago. “I’m right here with you, okay?”

She nodded quickly, let out a muffled gasp of pain, took a deep breath and pushed, groaning and holding onto his hand as tight as she possibly could. 

“Come on, Brienne!” Jaime encouraged her as she strained. “My Lady, push! You need to push!”

Brienne collapsed against his chest, taking several shallow breaths. She looked up at him with big tear filled eyes, ripping out the washcloth . “I can’t do this, I can’t!”

“Yes you can, Brienne.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Come on, deep breaths, you should have about ten seconds. Okay… Come on, My Lady…”

“Fuck!” she moaned, squeezing his hand again and clenching her eyes shut. She took a deep breath and Jaime felt her tense in his arms as she pushed and strained.

“The head’s almost out!” Podrick announced from between her legs. “My Lady, you’re almost there. Push again!”

“It hurts,” she cried. “I’m sorry, Jaime, I can’t! I can’t do this!”

Jaime mopped the tears and sweat from her face. “Brienne, you fought a bear,” he reminded her with a quick laugh that he hoped covered his fears. “You fought dead men, you defeated the Unsullied commander, me and the Hound in single combat… this is a walk in the park.” 

Jaime prayed the footsteps rushing by were Westerosi. He saw the pain dance in her eyes and he knew the time was close. “Now come on, My Lady, you’re almost there. One big push, I’m right here. One, two, three!”

He watched as Brienne took a deep breath, closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and pushed with every single nit of strength the Mother gave her, and push and push and push until, finally, Podrick fumbled with the towel for a moment and then, the beautiful wailing of a newborn filled the bathhouse.

“It’s a girl!” Podrick announced. 

Brienne collapsed against Jaime who held her as tight as he could, his sobs mixed with hers as he peppered her hair with kisses. 

The younger man held up the baby wrapped in a white towel and a fresh wave of tears overwhelmed him. She was small, smaller than his other three had been, but she was otherwise perfect in every which way Jaime could possibly imagine.

He smiled a smile as big as the Wall itself through his tears. “She’s beautiful.”

“She’s so tiny,” Brienne wept. 

Jaime chuckled softly, planting a kiss on the top of her head. Podrick grinned at the new parents before he began wrapping her in even more towels to protect her from the chill of the bathhouse.

“Where is she?” Brienne cried when the babe was taken out of view. “Where is she, let me see her.”

“I got her,” Podrick said, and Jaime saw him swaddling him with the small towels, doing his best to wipe the fluids from her face. “I got her, My Lady, she’s right here.”

“Be careful with her, she’s really tiny…”

Moments later Podrick brought her the crying babe and handed it to Brienne who cradled her to her chest and was looking down at her with all the love and wonderment and amazement this world had to offer. 

“Hello, Joanna,” Brienne cooed through her tears as soft as a song. “I’m your mother. Welcome to the world.”

Jaime watched as the baby’s cries ceased and two brilliantly deep blue eyes opened up to the world and looked at the woman who was willing to give everything up for her.  He laid his hand on Joanna’s forehead. Her tiny tuft of pale blonde hair was as soft as freshly spun silk and Jaime could already tell she was going to have his nose. More tears fell as he looked down at this vision of innocence and beauty, his voice trembling as he said the words he had only dreamed about saying to his other three.

“I’m your father, my little cub,” he whispered, and Joanna’s blue eyes, his daughter’s eyes, flickered up to look at the man who would claim her from this day, until her last. “And I love you so much.”

Brienne sniffed away the last of her tears before she looked up at Jaime and he gazed down at her, soft smiles rising on both their faces before he leaned down and kissed her as soft as velvet. They both turned back to the baby and became lost in her big blue eyes until the sound of steel on steel dragged them back into the reality that the castle was under siege. 

“We need to get you two out of here,” said Podrick, unsheathing Honor. “That was the plan, she was to get you to the ship. If the Queens troops find out you’re free the first thing they’re gonna do is look for her.”

The sounds of the steel and shouts were as loud as if they were in the room with them. Jaime looked down at Brienne who had turned her full attention back to Joanna.

“We need to give the baby to Podrick,” he told her. 

“Me?” The squire blinked. “But-.”

“She’s just given birth,” he explained. “I’ve been kept in a Dungeon these past two months. No one will be looking for you, no one will care about another Westerosi running around. Right now you’re the strongest fighter out of all of us, you’re her best chance.” The words were strange on Jaime’s tongue. Podrick Payne being called the best fighter of the three of them but he knew it was the truth (a temporary truth to be sure, but still a truth). “You take Joanna, you get her to the ship. We’ll be right behind you.”

Brienne clung the baby tightly a moment, as if someone might rip her from her arms. “I don’t want to leave her.”

Jaime kneeled in front of the tall blonde and put a hand on her shoulder. “You know I’m right.” He spoke as gently as he could. “Every guard knows who we are, the Queen hates us both… They won’t try to stop someone they don’t care about and he can fight, Brienne.”

“I learned from the best, My Lady,” Podrick said with a flutter of a smile. “I won’t let anything happen to her, I swear it on my sword and on my honor as a knight.”

So she had done it then. She made Podrick a knight, and now he was using his new title as a way to promise he would protect her daughter.

“Do your duty then, Ser Podrick.” He watched as the boy's chest swelled with pride at the use of his newly made title. “Let no harm come to her.”

“I won’t, My Lord. I swear it.”

Tears were brewing in Brienne’s eyes and her chin was trembling but she kissed the top of Joanna’s head and handed her over to Jaime. The emerald eyed knight kissed his Lady, and then his daughter before he stood, sword and babe in hand, and handed the blonde haired cub to Podrick who took her and cradled her to his chest. 

He helped Brienne stand. She clutched at the newly made knights red colored mail. “I don’t care what you hear,” she told him fiercely. “I don’t care what instincts you have to fight, you don’t turn around to help us, you get Joanna to the ship. If you hear me cry out or Ser Jaime, you ignore it and you get her to the ship, Podrick. Promise me.”

The boy looked hesitant but he nevertheless nodded. “I won’t let you down, My Lady.”

Jaime took her face in his hands and kissed her. He leaned his forehead against hers, brushing away her tears with his thumbs and stroking the long scar that marred her cheek. 

“She’s gonna be fine,” Jaime promised Brienne. “He’ll protect her.” He picked up his fallen sword and held it up. “We’ll be right behind him.”

She nodded, taking a shaking breath before she unsheathed Oathkeeper. “I don’t know how well I can fight,” she admitted shamefully, as if not being able to take on ten knights at once minutes after giving birth was something to be embarrassed about. 

“I’ll protect you.” Jaime buried his hand in her damp mussed hair. “You’ll see her again,” he swore, voicing the fear he knew had to be running rampant through her because that was all he could think of too. “You’ll get to hold her again. We just have to make it to the passageway.”

Rather she believed him or not she didn’t say. She just looked towards the door where their daughter disappeared out of and then looked back at Jaime.

“For Joanna.”

Jaime smiled. He gave her a curt nod. “Joanna.”

The three knights raised their swords and ran from the bathhouse into the fray.

The night was alive with the sounds of Westerosi battlecries of ‘Winterfell’ and ‘Baratheon’, ‘Casterly Rock’ and ‘Tully’, the ululating of the Dothraki and shouted Valerian orders from the Unsullied, dying gasps and groans, swords clashing against spears and curved Akrahs. Outside there were screams and shouts and swords, and the bells rang just as loud as when the dragon burned down the city. Rather they were ringing for surrender or a call for arms Jaime didn’t know, nor did he care to find out. 

The three of them ran down the passage way, Podrick several feet ahead of him, holding the newborn in one arm and Honor in the other. They turned the corner to find a group of soldiers and unsullied, knights and Dothraki sparring and fighting and killing. There was a dozen or so Westerosi against ten of the Queens men’s. 

Jaime took a deep breath, shouted ‘Lannister!’ While Brienne yelled ‘Evenfall!’ and charged headfirst into the frey. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Podrick sneak against the wall past the fighting, unnoticed. An unsullied swung his sythe sword at the dark haired boy and Podrick dodged the blow and turned away so that his lift side was facing the wall and away from the battle.  Podrick swung Honor down and caught the man in the meaty part of the thigh, bringing him to his knees. It wasn’t a killing strike, nor did he linger to end his opponents life, but it slowed the Dothraki down enough that the knight could run past him and the rest of the men. Podrick didn’t look back once, and Jaime had never been more thankful.

After that Jaime swung his sword faster and aimed more precisely than ever before. There was no stopping him as he hacked and stabbed and pierced, blocking strikes and cutting down foes one right after the other. He heard a familiar shout and then felt a spatter of blood on the back of his neck. He whipped around and saw a Dothraki with Valerian steel sticking out of his mouth like a long tongue, his Akrah held aloft like it had been moments from coming down on the back of Jaime’s head.

Brienne yanked Oathkeeper free, caught his eye, smiled, and they went back to what they knew best; fighting and being one another’s protector. He saved her from an Unsullied’s spear when her swing was too slow, and she pushed him out of the way of another Horselord’s curved blade and the copper skinned man got a Valerian steel sword through his gut as thanks for his loyal service to the Queen.

For the first time in months he felt truly, truly alive. No man alive could touch him, his enemies all moved at a snail's pace while he was cutting away at breath neck speed and everything fell away except for the sound of screams and the smell of blood  until there was no man left to kill. They lost seven Westerosi but Jaime, Brienne and the rest managed to wipe out all ten of Daenerys’.

Brienne and him had no time to revel in their small victory. They started to make their way back down the hall where Podrick had ran off when a group of unsullied rounding the corner, blood gleaming on their spears with Greyworm at the head of their column.

“Shit,” Jaime muttered as he held the stolen sword aloft. Twelve unsullied, including their commander, against four tired mowed down soldiers, a one handed man who had been starved and beaten the last two months and a woman who gave birth not ten minutes ago? There was no chance.

Greyworm regarded him with cold, angry brown eyes. “I thought you might be trying to escape, Kingslayer,” he said in his thick Essos accent. He turned his eyes towards Brienne who had Oathkeeper tight in her grasp. A pool of thick dark blood was steadily growing on her breeches and dripping down her leg and onto the floor. They would know she just gave birth. “And you would be helping him. Come; the Queen will see the light go from your eyes.”

The commander reached to grab him but Jaime danced away, holding his sword aloft. But before he could bring it down he felt a cold rush of wind and then suddenly the tip of Greyworms spear was at his throat. “Don’t!” Brienne shouted, holding her sword aloft but one of the eunuchs hit her in the stomach with the shaft of his spear, hard, and sent her crumbling to the ground screaming in pain. 

“Leave her alone!” Jaime roared as two of the unsullied yanked his arms behind his back. He swallowed hard as he looked at the commander.  “You don’t have to do this,” Jaime told him. If Greyworm could just listen and Jaime could talk himself out of this, he might be able to get him and Brienne our safely… “You’re a free man, you don’t have to fight for her anymore. Go somewhere else, do whatever you want to do. Her reign won’t last the year, get out while you can…” 

“I was told when I came to this country that it was bad manners to refuse a Lords offer.” Jaime blinked, and Greyworm spun his spear around quicker than he could blink and he slammed the butt of it into Jaime’s stomach sending him down to his knees with a gasp of pain. “But I will refuse you now. I fight for my queen.”

Greyworm barked something in Valerian and the next thing he knew two unsullied were grabbing him by the arms and yanking them to his feet. One of the other unsullied asked something else in the foreign tongue and Greyworm’s cold brown eyes lingered on the remaining Northern soldier. The man drew himself up to his fullest height. A river of blood streamed down his face and fell to the floor. “It would be an honor to die for the North and for the Stark sisters.”

Greyworm glared at the man for a moment before he gave a curt nod to his men and turned away from the carnage.

As Jaime and Brienne were being dragged away he heard the screams and sounds of sharp steel entering soft flesh

The slave soldiers led him to Maegor's Holdfast, the place where he found his weeping twin a lifetime ago.

_If we had just stayed here Cersei would be alive,_ he realized as they unlocked the heavy door, guarded by Dothraki and Unsullied alike. _The_ _baby would be alive._

His child with Cersei and his twin might have lived and thrived, but Brienne and Joanna… Cersei wouldn’t have suffered the thought of Jaime being with another woman much less getting her pregnant. The short haired queen would have put Brienne and Joanna’s head on a spike facing Jaime’s chambers in the white sword tower and not give it another moment's thought.

He shuddered at the thought and forced it from his mind. Brienne and Joanna were safe, they were hidden, Pod would protect them. This plan would work out and then he would be able to go back and find her.

The door opened and inside Daenerys was sitting on a simple wooden chair higher than all the rest. Her long silver hair was disheveled and frenzied and flowing freely, her silk robe of midnight black and blood red was tied securely around her and her hands clenched the armrests so tight her dagger like nails were curling into the wooden throne.

Tyrion had been roused as well and brought to the Holdfast along with Jon, both of whom looked more like hostages than willing recipients of the security the fortress offered. Jon flinched and clutched the wolf pommel of his sword with every scream and every clash of steel. Jaime knew exactly what he was thinking every time he heard that. He was hoping that it wasn’t a Northern soldier being cut down, that his men were making it out alive and safe. Jaime knew this, because he was thinking the same exact thing about every man in crimson armor out there, and he knew from the look in his brothers eye he was thinking that too.

Gendry was standing in the back, a large cut over his eye and his large war hammer at his feet, his hands in chains and flanked by two Dothraki.  Her three Unsullied queensguard and her Bloodriders were all standing around the Queen, weapons drawn and at the ready. 

The Queen looked down at Jaime and Brienne as they were thrown down before her. Greyworm barked foreign orders to the men he commanded to bring them in and they both gave a quick nod of the head and hurried out of the Holdfast, ready to defend the rest of the city leaving the commander with their prisoners.

The Queen eyed the growing puddle of blood on Brienne’s trousers, watched as the strongest woman any of them knew fought to stand and clutched at her large swollen misshapen stomach. 

“Where’s the baby?” There was no honey in the Queens words, no feigned composure to prove to her admirers she had a sprinkling of sanity left. Just fire and blood. 

Brienne closed her eyes and tears leaked from behind her lids and streamed down her face. Her lip trembled dangerously. “I-... Your Grace, please-.”

“Where is it?” Daenerys barked. 

“She’s gone.” Brienne covered her mouth with a hand. “Joanna’s gone your Grace, I-... I only…. I only got to hold her for a moment and then she was taken from me.”

_ Good girl, Brienne. You’re a terrible liar, only speak in half truths. _

Jaime heard a choked sob full of rage and when he looked up at the throne he saw his brother’s pale green eyes filled with tears and his hand curled into a tight, trembling fist, and when Tyrion looked up at Daenerys Jaime saw no love, no respect, not even fear; but sheer grief for the fact he lost another niece and pure rage and ire and hate for the woman he held responsible.

He wished with all his might he could scream the truth, that Tyrion’s niece was, hopefully, alive and well. But instead Jaime bowed his head and thought about how he felt when Myrcella died in his arms and tears rushed to his eyes, and he shifted his hate for the Dornish woman onto the Queen.

There was no pity in her violet eyes. Not even a faint glimmer, nor was sympathy, or kindness, or anything hat Daenerys would have held years ago when a mother admitted to losing her child before that ugly iron chair and the crown on her brow became so important to her. “You should be thanking me then. Your grief for the babe will only last minutes. Others live with their losses for years.” She slowly turned towards Jaime. “Your grief for your lover will only last minutes as well. Jaime Lannister, I, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andels and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm, sentence you to die.”

“For what crime?” Jaime demanded.

“For the murder of my father, for not protecting my brothers children, for treason, for escaping your cell; take your pick, Kingslayer.”

The sounds of the battles were getting closer, the ringing of the bells were growing louder and Daenerys was sinking deeper and deeper into madness every moment that passed.

He turned towards Greyworm who was staring straight ahead at the Queen, arms behind him back. “I want a trial.” Jaime looked ahead at Daenerys. “A trial by combat.”

“No.”

“It’s my right.”

“House Lannister is in open rebellion and storming the capital and the castle. You have no rights but the right to meet your Gods after you die.”

Greyworm stepped forward. “Let me kill this man for you, My Queen. Let me end him once and for all.”

Daenerys never so much as blinked or looked away from Jaime. “End him for me, Greyworm,” the Queen ordered. “Destroy the man who killed my father, who tried to kill me, whose sister killed Missandei.”

Jaime glared at the woman on the makeshift throne but before he could say anything an unexpected voice cried out. “I will be his champion!”

For the first time since Jaime and Brienne was brought into the room, Daenerys looked away from them and purple eyes fell on the curly haired Northerner who stormed away from her side and stood in front of Jaime placing a hand on Longclaw’s hilt.

“I will be his champion,” Jon Snow said fiercely. “I will fight Greyworm.”

The Queens hand shook violently. “No.”

“Yes. I will fight for the Kingslayer.”

“You will not die for him!” 

“He is allowed a champion, that is his right.” Jon unsheathed Longclaw and turned towards Greyworm while Jaime glanced between the Northerner and the Queen.

_ Jon Snow you beautiful idiot… _

“I will not allow it!” Daenerys roared. Jaime saw a flicker of something other then hate fill her eyes. Something akin to fear. “Stand down!”

Jon bowed to his opponent who stood as stiff as a statue.

“Jon! Stand down!” she shouted again. “Stand down or I swear to the Mother-.”

“You’ll burn me alive?” He turned his attention back to his Queen. “You’ll have Drogon set fire to me? The castle is about to be overrun, Dany, you can’t win this!” He took a step towards her. “Please.” Jon was begging for the woman he once loved and now feared, for his sisters, for the Northern men storming the castle, for Winterfell, for Westeros… “The castle is about to be overrun and they WILL kill you… Surrender, Dany. Fly back to Essos, rule there. You were a good ruler there, you can be one again. Please…”

Any fear she had of losing him was burned away by her lust for power. “I will not give up my throne!” she snarled at the bastard. “Not now, not ever! It is my birthright!”

Tears found their way to Jon’s brown eyes. He lifted Longclaw and the guards around her all aimed their weapons at him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and then he ran at her.

Several things happened all at once. The three Dothraki and three Unsullied leapt at Jon while Gendry broke free of the shackles that, Jaime noticed, were already rather loose on his wrists and grabbed hold of his hammer, swinging it as hard as his strength allowed, crushing in one Dothraki head and then before the other could even blink he was swung it back around and hit the other in the chest before he sprinted over to the fray where Jon was battling the four men.

“My Queen!” Greyworm shouted as he ran at Daenerys, knocking into one of the Unsullied who was about to shove a spear through Jon’s throat and making him stumble, giving the former Northern king enough time to thrust Longclaw through the Unsullied guard’s chest and out the other end.

Jaime helped Brienne to her feet and the two of them looked at the door then back to Jon and Gendry who, even at their full strength, couldn’t fight five of the best fighters Essos had to offer with just them. The two knights glanced at one another, already knowing what their honor wouldn’t allow them to do, grabbed their swords and charged at the group, hacking and slashing as well as their damaged bodies would let them. 

Jaime caught an unsullied spear shaft inches from Jon’s throat and parried it back. The unsullied swung again, and again Jaime caught the spear tip and shaft until he didn’t, and the sharp Essos steel cut his chest and thick crimson poured from the wound and he hit back a scream of pain, knowing his cries would distract Brienne. It was suicide in a sword fight and went against every instinct he had but before he could strike again and cut him deeper Jaime stepped in close to the slave soldier, far too close for him to be able to use his weapon of choice, the same way Brienne had when she figured out the way to best Greyworm.

Jaime slammed his blade into the Unsullieds side, making as deep a cut as his strength would allow before he pulled it out and the guard crumpled to the ground in a pool of crimson. Jaime turned in time to see Brienne going up against Arro, the Bloodrider Daenerys picked to replace Raeko. He was a talented fighter and his curved blade was doing exactly what it was supposed to, making her sword glance off his every time she blocked and slid off the curved back of the Akrah every arching blow. 

The Dothraki twisted the steel in his hands and swung the blade upwards. He would have ripped her swollen stomach open had Jaime not caught it in time and slammed his blade down on the open curve of the blade, using every ounce of strength and force the Warrior gave him in his left arm to hold the blade down, trapping the horselord scythe in his knightly steel. Brienne raised her sword and, with a battle scream he knew all too well, swung the heavy Valerian steel that ate through the horse lords flesh as easily as if he had been made of air.

“I’ll kill you!” Daenerys screamed over the sound of steel on steel. Greyworm was trying to drag her from the room and had his hand wrapped tightly around her arm. She watched as her last unsullied guard, the first group of slaves she had freed, fell when Gendry’s hammer hit him in the chest. The sound of his ribs shattering was loud enough to be heard from Dorne to the Wall just as it had been when Robert did the same to her brother. “I’ll kill you all, I’ll burn you all!” She shrieked, fighting against her commander as she watched Longclaw rip a Dothraki’s throat open and the Blood of Her Blood kept his promise to die for his Khaleesi. “I’ll burn them all! I’ll burn them all! I’LL BURN THEM ALL!”

She opened her mouth and Jaime knew the word she was about to scream to the heavens. He knew she was going to call her child.

The world moved in slow motion. He moved in slow motion as he sprinted towards the Queen. The blood from the cut was pouring out of him too quick, far too quick, and every step was a harrowing agony. No one else seemed to notice and he wasn’t going to get there in time. Daenerys would cry for Drogon, she would scream ‘dracarys’ and her otherworldly bond with the great black dragon would call him to the Holdfast where everyone inside would be burned alive.

He saw her lips part but no sound emerged. Nothing happened. Her eyes bugged out and a thin dribble of blood fell from her lips. Jaime fell to the floor, his vision growing hazy. He saw Brienne race over and then he felt her wrap her arms around him as she lowered him to the ground carefully, holding the heavy cloak she had worn to disguise herself over the wound. He watched as Daenerys fell to her knees and then watched as his brother came out from behind her, the long and sharp point of his hand of the Queen badge stained crimson. Tyrion said something to her, but all Jaime could make out was the word ‘niece’ before he stabbed her again, right between the ribs.

The last thing Jaime saw before the world went black was the fire and light leaving the last dragon’s eyes, and Arya Stark in the unsullied commanders uniform smirking down at the fallen Queen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember my promise! Chapter 31 is up next! Also I really considered splitting this chapter in two but y’all have waited for the Dawn long enough ❤️


	31. Chapter 31

Brienne. Brienne. Brienne.

Jaime could think of only one thing as consciousness slowly came back to him. The world was jerking and twisting back and forth, side to side and he felt a harsh chill that accompanied a burning fever. Jaime heard a door open but the world was too fuzzy to be able to make out who was walking in.

“Relax, Ser.” He knew the voice was familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. “You’ll be alright.”

“Joanna,” he grumbled, his head lopping side to side. “Jo-... Bri-... Joanna…”

“Just rest, Ser. Just rest”

He shook his head, his head falling lazily from one side to the other. How could he relax when he didn’t know about the fate of the people who meant the world to him? “Jo-... Jo-... Brienne, Lady-... Lady Bri…”

The voice was far away and muffled and before Jaime could ask him to clarify, darkness crept in and he sunk back into the black folds. 

Raeko had a struggling Brienne on her back and was pumping relentlessly between her thighs. Her mothers milk streaked red with blood ran over his calloused fingers as his large hands ravaged her swollen breasts while the cut in her cheek wept crimson.

“LET HER GO!” Jaime roared, and then there was a sword in his hand. He charged forward and swung the sword, catching the Dothraki in the side but he might as well have not held a weapon at all. He thrust the point forward, stabbing him in the back, cutting at his neck, his side… He even took his head off but nothing he did stopped the Dothraki and Jaime had no choice but to watch as the bloody headless man spilled his seed inside the sobbing screaming knight.

The pain was overbearing. The fever burned hotter than ever and the stench of sick and death overwhelmed him and when he slipped back into his nightmares he was almost grateful.

He was in the Holdfast. Jon was dead, Gendry was slain, and Arya dressed in Greyworm’s commander outfit laid unmoving besides the Blacksmith but Jaime ignored the rest of them. He ignored them all because Tyrion was dead at the Queens feet, his Hand’s pin sticking out of his neck and Brienne fell a few feet beside his brother, dressed in the colbalt armor Jaime had made for her, big blue eyes unblinking and staring up at nothing and Joanna laid in her arms, just as still as her corpse of a mother. 

Daenerys was sitting in her throne grinning down at the bodies, not beautiful but ugly; with dragons wings dripping blood and scabbed, bleeding black scales were pale white skin once was. 

“You lost,” she hissed. A forked tongue slithered out between her lips as Jaime sank to his knees besides his Lady Knight and gathered her and the baby in his arms. He didn’t look away from his love even as the Queen took flight, and he barely flinched when her dragons fire consumed him.

“Think he’ll make it?”

A voice was in the room with him but he didn’t have the strength to open his eyes to see who it was. His fever burned hotter and it was all Jaime could do to keep from convulsing.

“Dirty blade to the chest coupled with two months in the Black Cells?” the voice continued and Jaime heard the skepticism as thick as castle walls. “Surprised he isn’t dead already.”

_ I can’t die now,  _ he thought to himself. _ I can’t. I have Brienne, I have my daughter. Please don’t let me die... _

“If he was a lesser man I’d say he had no chance,” a second voice said. “But after everything he’s been through the Gods would have to be crueler than they’ve ever been before to let him die now.”

“Well if that infection doesn’t clear up by tomorrow the Maester might have to take the whole bloody arm just to keep him alive.”

_Take it! I don’t want to die!_ Jaime screamed at the voices. _I want to be with Brienne_! _I’ll deal with the pain, just let me live!_ _Save me! Please!_

He tried to convey his messages to the men but far too soon he was slipping back into silent darkness.

Jaime faced down not just Aerys but his daughter as well. Both Targaryens were nothing more than the cold blue eyed corpses he fought in Winterfell and the army of the dead stood behind them. He held Moonbright and he swallowed hard as he looked at the dragon corpses and the dead men they controlled. He could not beat them, not alone. A gentle hand touched his shoulder and when he looked over at who touched him his cock grew impossibly hard. 

Brienne was standing beside Jaime, naked and impossibly beautiful with soft womanly curves, her warm pink cunt soaking wet and aching for her lions touch. She held up Oathkeeper and when she touched her steel to his, both of them came alive with pale blue and crimson flames.

A smug grin rose to her plump lips that Jaime met easily and they both turned back to the army of the dead, holding their swords aloft while they stared down the advancing army together...

Jaime’s eyes slowly opened and he blinked once, twice. He was awake. He was awake and more importantly he was alive. His head swam and his body ached, and he felt thick white bandages on his chest when he moved but the heat and chill of the fever was gone, and he was alive. He remembered the voice from earlier and he flexed his fingers, sighing with relief when he felt them move and when he looked at his right he saw the same useless stump as before, but he still had an arm at least.

He leaned back against the pillow and he finally had a moment to take in his surroundings. He was in his chambers but something was different. It felt different, it felt… more free, somehow. Unguarded.

_ The Queen is dead _ , he remembered.  _ Tyrion slayed her. He killed his Queen for a lie... _

“Hello?” he called out in a voice weak from misuse. He cleared his voice and tried again, louder. Minutes later the door opened and a boy in a Northern style tunic opened up the door and Waldon walked in.

“You would think eventually we would stop meeting when you’re on the verge of death,” the maester said as he handed him a cup of water. “At least this time it was just an infection from a dirty blade and dehydration rather than a whole building falling on top of you.”

“I like to keep things interesting,” Jaime groaned as he sat up in the bed. He took the glass and took a long drink, gulping the cool water greedily until there was nothing left. “How’s Joanna and Brienne?”

“The babys fine,” Waldon told him as he put the back of his liver spotted hand on his forehead. Jaime felt the world life off his shoulders. “She’s a little early so I’ve been watching her for any mishaps but she seems to be healthy and thriving.” 

“And Brienne?”

The maester reached into his black bag and pulled out a vile of thick brown liquid and handed it to Jaime. “She’s as well as can be expected.”

Jaime’s heart leapt into his throat. “What does that mean?”

“It means she was a fool.” Waldon nodded towards the vile in the Lions hand. “Drink.”

“Is she okay?”

“Drink.”

“I will after you tell me how she fares.”

The maester sighed heavily. “It means that a woman who just gave birth several weeks early had no business taking part in a siege and sword fighting minutes later, especially not one with a history of difficult births in her family.” He actually sounded angry with his charge. An anger mixed with worry, the same kind of fear and ire that Brienne spoke with whenever Podrick would do something reckless.  “She lost a lot of blood, Ser Jaime,” he continued. “A  _ lot  _ of blood, and it took every ounce of my skill to keep her alive.”

“But… but she is alive? Right? She’s going to be okay?” 

An unspeakable fear took hold of Jaime during the moment it took the Maester to answer.

“She will be. She should be waking up soon if the pattern is any indication. Now drink.”

Jaime let out a sigh of relief as he unstopped the tiny bottle and swallowed the contents within. It was thick and tasted of raw walnuts and chauk and Jaime gagged twice on the substance. But he could already feel the medicine working, clearing his head and even offering his body a bit of reprieve from the aches. 

“What pattern?” asked Jaime as he handed the stopper and bottle back to the Maester, taking a long swallow of water to wash the taste from his mouth.

“Whenever you would worsen, so would she. When you were almost lost it, she was moments from death herself. When she started to heal, as did you.” Waldon turned down the blanket and removed the heavy gauze, putting his firery red salve on the wound before adding new fresh bandages. “It was rather curious to be honest.”

Waldon straightened up and stared down at the man he had healed. “Lady Brienne nearly died for you, Ser Jaime. When it involves your life, she becomes reckless. Couple that with her stubbornness… it’s a dangerous combination.”

“If you’re asking me to try to reign her in you’d have better luck asking the wind not to blow.” Jaime groaned as he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He started to stretch his arms towards the ceiling but thought better of it when he felt the cut on his chest scream in protest. “And you’re better off asking the Maid for a turn between Her legs then asking me to ask Brienne to change. I love her as she is, stubbornness and all. I won’t ask her to change who she is, even if it means she puts herself at risk.”

“I know, Ser Jaime. Just… Try to convince her to be more careful. Or at least tell her wait a day or two after giving birth before she goes charging in, swords swinging.”

“How has asking her to be more careful and less pig-headed worked out in the past?”

A sad smile rose to his old thin lips. “Not very well, I’m afraid.”

“Then you have your answer.” Jaime looked around the room as if he was expecting to see Brienne and Joanna hidden away in a corner somewhere. “Where is she?” he asked. “Where’s the baby, I want to see them.”

“Later,” a new familiar voice told him from the doorway.

Jaime looked over at the doorway and bit back a groan when he saw the short slender Stark girl standing there, hands clasped behind her back, her skinny little sword he always saw her with at Winterfell hanging at her waist and dressed in simple black breeches and a brown leather tunic.

He heard tales from the other soldiers of Winterfell, that Arya could change her face at will. That she had been trained by the best assassians in Essos and she could make herself into any person she desired, that she learned magic shape shifting powers from the Faceless Men. Jaime never really believed it, not until ‘Greyworm’ uttered the phrase he heard his father say a thousand times, that he and Tyrion used often enough when they wanted someone to accept something from them, that Tywin’s cupbearer would have heard at least once as well. 

“ _ It’s bad manners to refuse a lord’s offer.” _

After that he knew the rumors about the wolf pup was true and he wasn’t looking at the Unsullied commander but the younger Stark girl, and he it confirmed when ‘Greyworm’ was hesitant about killing a Northerner who seemed to know exactly what it would take for his Lady to keep her cover and told her as much. 

Arya could change her face, Bran had whatever he had going on, Jon Snow had been brought back from the dead…

_ If the Lannister’s had even half the amount of magic in them that the Starks did Lions could rule Westeros for ten thousand years. _

Jaime held no real ill-will towards the girl but he didn’t forget the scars on his son’s arm from her Direwolf, nor would he ever forget the annoyance he felt when Brienne told him how she nearly died fighting the Hound for Arya and the girl repaid the debt by smugly challenging her in the courtyard in front of her squire.

“You won that fight,” Jaime told Brienne after she recounted the small scuffle in their chambers.

“It was a draw,” the tall knight insisted.

“It was a win that clearly went to you. Her arm was all the way extended, you say?” She nodded. “And did it come close to touching your throat?” he asked, already knowing there was no way for the 5’1 girl would have been able to reach up that high for her blade to come close to the 6’3 Brienne’s neck, the only thing the blonde had unprotected. He didn’t wait for an answer. “So all you had to do was thrust your sword forward and it would have ended her, yes?”

A faint blush painted her cheeks and a timid smile rose to her lips. “It was a draw,” she said again, ending the argument with a kiss and sliding her large calloused hand between his legs.

The next day, Jaime noticed with a smirk, Brienne stood a little taller when she spoke to the young pup.

It was the girl who wore a smirk now though, and Jaime had little patience for anyone who wasn’t his betrothed or his child much less a Stark.

“Forgive me, Lady Stark, but I’m seeing them now.” 

“No I need to talk to you.”

He rolled his eyes and started to walk past her when she drew the thin blade and balanced it in her hands. Jaime sighed, annoyed, but nevertheless stilled his movements. 

“You don’t want to talk to me?” she asked, casually twisting the sword in her small hands.

“Not particularly.”

Arya looked up at him, a smug look in her grey eyes. “Am I not blonde enough?”

Jaime was about to tell her she wasn’t just not blonde enough but not tall enough, not old enough, not ‘Brienne’ enough, when a forgotten memory found its way to the forefront of his mind of the new Lord of Highgarden telling him that same thing and Jaime wasn’t sure if he was speaking about Brienne or Cersei. The next week he received a raven that the Frey House had been murdered in masse and the late Walder Frey was found with his throat slit and thrown into a river where, it was assumed, some animal had ripped his face off.

“You were at the Frey’s weren’t you.” She answered with a mocking cock of her head. “The night of that feast with me and Bronn…” He remembered a young woman pouring wine and staying unusually close to Jaime the whole night. “You were the serving girl.”

“I’d hope to lead you up to one of the bedrooms and slit your throat.” She talked as if she was having a polite conversation with him regarding the price of a bushel of oats. Arya smiled. “Imagine the look on Cersei’s face when she thought her own brother and lover was burying a dagger in her womb.”

“Well thankfully for me the serving wench you posed as was as ugly as you.”

A cruel jape, one Brienne would have slapped him for, but he was sick of the Stark girls talking so casually about his sister’s death. 

Rather than be offended Arya just smiled at the tall man and pointed to the bed with her sword. “Sit, Kingslayer.”

Jaime looked helplessly at Waldon who just cleared his throat and bowed to the knight. “I’ll go see if Lady Brienne’s awake. I know she’ll be eager to see you and how upset she’d be if she had to wait any longer,” Waldon said, almost a warning.

“Yes I think that would be a good idea, Maester.” She didn’t look away from Jaime as she spoke. “If you get hungry on your way, I think I saw some pie in the kitchens.”

There was a threat hidden behind the seemingly harmless offer, Jaime could tell by the look on the Maester’s face, but he said nothing and instead just walked out, leaving the door wide open behind him.

“What do you want, Stark?” he demanded when they were left alone. “Do you want me to lick your boots for leading your men to battle? Do you want my thanks?”

“Oh I didn’t lead my men anywhere,” Arya corrected him. “Sansa was the one who arranged it. The moment she got the raven from Kingslanding telling her to come bend the knee she started making arrangements for the rest of the men to come south. Then the Evenstar wrote to Gendry asking the same, Gendry wrote to me asking what to do, and the four of us realized we all had the same idea. We would have had more time to prepare but when Lady Brienne was arrested Sansa ordered the sack on the city to happen as soon as possible.”

Jaime glared at her. “It would have been nice to been let in on this.”

“No one trusted you,” Arya said plainly. She pursed her lips. “Don’t feel put out, Kingslayer, I didn’t trust your brother either but Sansa swore to me that the Imp wouldn’t betray us.”

“But no one made any promises for me?”

“Lord Selwyn did, a few weeks before he died. He said you were an honorable trustworthy man.” Jaime’s heart was fit to bursting with pride from the praise be earned from Brienne’s father before sorrow overwhelmed him when he remembered the Evenstar’s demise. He almost missed the pups next words. “But I didn’t trust him either.”

Jaime blinked. “He… you didn’t trust Lord Selwyn?” The Evenstar had been considered one of the most trustworthy men the south had a claim too. Maybe not as infallible as Ned Stark but there wasn’t a man alive who could have questioned his honor.

“I don’t trust any man who says you or his daughter are infallibly honorable. I even side-eye Sansa with how much confidence she places in Lady Brienne.”

Jaime stormed up to the small girl who didn’t even flinch and merely looked up as if he was a green boy throwing a tantrum. “Brienne is the most honorable woman in Westeros,” Jaime spat at the pup. “She’s a thousand times more honorable and trustworthy than your bloody father or any other Northman!” 

“She was sworn to my mother,” Arya said coolly. “She was sworn to House Stark-

“She doesn’t serve the Starks, she served your mother and now you two.”

“But then she went and fucked a Lannister and is willing to take your name,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“She saved your sister,” Jaime reminded her. “She tried to save you too, you insufferable brat. She nearly died for you. She WOULD die for you, for both of you.”

“Then she went and became pregnant by the man who attacked my father in the streets.”

“His wife kidnapped my brother!”

“For sending an assassin after a crippled boy.”

Jaime glared at the girl, ‘Dawnbringer’ as all the songs were calling her. “Are we to stand here and argue which House did what to which? How far back shall we go? Am I to be blamed for the Casterlys cutting down all the Weirwoods in the Westerlands too?”

Her smile chilled him to the bone. It was dangerous and deadly. He almost preferred the cold stoicness of her sister. “I don’t think that’s necessary. But what I  _ do _ blame you for is Roose Bolton quoting  _ you _ , Kingslayer, when he murdered my brother.”

“I had no hand in what happened to Catelyn or Robb. Truth be told I admired your mother.”

“No but your father had a hand in their murder. The Lannister’s had a hand in it and… Brienne is about to become a Lannister too, isn’t she?”

Jaime’s hand clenched into a fist. He eyed the valyrian steel dagger in her scabbard, the one that ended the Nightking. If it could end an undead ice demon, surely it could shut up a small skinny girl. “If you so much as lay a finger on Brienne…” he snarled, the lion roaring to life inside him.

Arya furrowed her thick brows at him. “Why would I hurt her?” She sounded genuinely confused but Jaime didn’t trust any Stark as far as he could throw them. “You said it yourself, Brienne is willing to die for me. Why would I hurt someone who would die for me? Not to mention Sansa would never forgive me.”

“If you hurt her your sister being mad at you will be the least of your worries.” He wore a grin that could cut steel and emerald eyes gleamed with a deadly light. “You’ll have me to deal with, Stark, and by the time I’m done with you you’re going to wish I just chopped off your head like my son did to your father.”

Not even so much a twitch at the threat. What on earth did they put in the water up North? 

“I won’t hurt her,” Arya said again, more forcefully. Jaime rather reluctantly was forced to admit she might be telling the truth. “Or your cub. I don’t think she’s a bad person, I just don’t trust her.”

“Then you’re the stupidest woman who’s ever lived.”

She regarded him with amusement. “How long did it take your father to teach you to read?”

Jaime’s fingers twitched but before he could even raise it an inch Arya was far back enough away that his slap wouldn’t reach her. He glared at the browned haired girl. “If you think she’s so untrustworthy, if you think I’m the spawn of the Stranger itself, why on earth did you help us? Why didn’t you just kill us, no one would have known.”

“Sansa told me to head down to the dungeons to see if she needed help,” Arya said simply. “She knew the due date was close when we would arrive and if she hadn’t gotten you to the passageway I was to take you to it.”

Jaime glared at her. “But you brought us to the Queen instead. You took us to the most dangerous place in the city.”

“With a flock of Unsullied at my back that weren’t supposed to be there. I had to keep my cover, Kingslayer. Even the best plans go askew sometimes.”

Jaime remembered the look between ‘Greyworm’ and the Northman. Arya allowed one of her own countrymen to die just to keep up the facade, she wasn’t above taking two people she apparently didn’t trust to the Queen. Not to mention it had been Brienne's lie that spurred on his brother, that encouraged Jon Snow to finally act….

“How did you end up killing Greyworm anyway?”

Arya just smiled and held up her thin blade. “Stuck him with the pointy end. What was your plan when you challenged me?”

“That you would let me disarm you and then I would threaten the Queen to stand down. But like you said, the best plans sometimes go askew. What happened after my brother…”

“Become a Queenslayer?” Jaime flinched at the insult. He was used to hearing it for himself but to hear brother being called that… “Queen Daenerys went out to tell her troops to stand down,” she explained. Jaime was about to ask how a corpse was able to do anything much less give commands when he remembered who he was talking too. “She told them all she was yielding the seven kingdoms to the rebels and her final wish was for them to go back to Essos to help make sure the cities she saved didn’t slip back into slavery. Then, tragically, she and Greyworm threw themselves from the tallest tower in the Red Keep.”

“Long live the Queen,” Jaime muttered. He sighed as he rubbed his temples. “Look, Stark, I haven’t seen my fiancée or baby in… I don’t even know how long I’ve been asleep.”

“Three days.”

“Three days. I just want to go see them. I don’t care about long standing feuds or what you think of your sworn shield or anything else. I just want to see Brienne. So tell me why you’re here so I can get on my way.”

That dangerous smile again before she reached into her tunic and withdrew a rolled parchment. “Sansa asked me to give you this. You’re being summoned.”

“To what?”

“The country can’t very well go without a King. The heads of the great houses are meeting to discuss what to do next. Stark, Arryn, Baratheon, Tully, Greyjoy, Lannister, Martell and Blackgarden.”

“Blackgarden?”

“Bronn needed a surname for his House.” Even now the thought of the cutthroat being the head of a great house made Jaime clench his fists in anger. “They’re all meeting to discuss what happens next tomorrow in the Dragon Pit.”

“Tell Tyrion, he’s the Lord of Casterly Rock,” Jaime told her, letting some of his aggravation with the hold up be known. Brienne and Joanna were waiting for him and he was being held up for something a page could have told him in thirty seconds.

A flicker of surprise ran across her face. “You’re the older brother. You’re the heir.”

“Yes, and I’m marrying a woman whose family has no male heirs left. I never wanted the Rock, give it to Tyrion. Let him decide who runs the bloody country.”

“But-.”

“The only title I want is Lord of Tarth,” he interrupted sharply. His patience had grown paper thin and he was done arguing. “The only thing I want is to go be with the Lady of Tarth. Will the Lord and Lady of Tarth be invited to this Kingsmoot? No? Good, then let me pass.”

For a moment Jaime thought Arya might delay him further but instead the young wolf stepped aside. The graying lion stormed out of the room and when Arya called to him it took everything in him not to throttle the girl.

“I meant what I said, Kingslayer. I won’t hurt her, your cub either.” The truth was shining in her dark eyes and, grudgingly, he trusted the words. She sheathed the tiny blade and clasped her hands behind her back and nodded towards the door. “You may go now.”

He glowered at the arrogant wolf, dismissing him from his own chambers, but he didn’t linger and instead just turned and headed towards her chambers. 

It felt odd, not being shadowed by his Unsullied guards. He wondered what happened to Dustmagget and Jaehaerys and he found himself praying for the two slave soldiers who saved Briennes life and hoping they survived the sack. 

Her door was opened and he heard her speaking in the smooth flowery language of Valerian inside and when he walked in his previous questions were answered. Dustmagget and Jaehaerys were by her bedside, both of them dressed in their Unsullied leathers. He looked past them though and emerald eyes fell on the tall woman on the bed. She was paler than usual, with dark circles around her gorgeous eyes and a large dark bruise on her jaw. Her nose looked like it had been broken, again, her short blonde hair was mussed and disheveled, and even with the thick furs overtop of her you could tell her stomach was still large and swollen, but had already reduced considerably from before the birth.

Jaime never saw such a vision of beauty.

“Brienne,” he breathed, drawing her attention away from the two guards. Her eyes grew wet with tears and she smiled at him.

“Jaime,” she whispered in turn and without another wasted moment he ran to her, taking her face in his hands, being mindful of the bruises and kissed her. She reached up and draped her arms around his neck as their lips moved in sync, each of them pouring all their love and sorrow and grief for everything that had happened the past few months into the kiss. It was him comforting her for Selwyn, and her comfort in turn for Cersei, his apologies for what happened with Raeko, her granting him forgiveness for every cruel word he threw at her and her thanks for his gifts, for their shared terror over the thought of the Dragon Queen sinking her claws into their daughter and their sheer loneliness during their time apart…

It was the kind of kiss you only heard about in the songs that made young girls weep. The kind of kiss wives only dreamed about receiving after their strong and fierce husbands returned from battle, and gallant knights simply fantasized about sharing with a beautiful maid after a heroic rescue. 

Only this kiss was real. It was real and it was warm and soft and beautiful, and it belonged only to the Kingslayer and Brienne the Beauty.

Jaime pulled apart and rested his head against hers, putting a hand on her cheek and running his thumb against the long thick scar. Brienne brought her hand up overtop of his and turned her head, lightly kissing his calloused palm. Jaime closed his eyes and let out a sigh that seemed to take every trouble he had the past nine months. He felt as if it had been a thousand years since they last saw each other so he said the only thing he felt was appropriate.

“I missed you,” he whispered to his lover. “So much, My Lady.”

He could feel her smile. “You’ve only been asleep for three days.”

“It seems like a lot longer.” He buried his hand in her hair and finally opened his eyes to find himself staring into two astonishing pools of sapphires. “It’s over.”

The Dragons, the wars, the Targaryen reign, Cersei’s grasp on him, the forces in the world determined to drive them apart…  it was all finally over.

“It’s over,” she agreed, her words wet with thankful tears. Brienne nuzzled her face against his rough but gentle hand. “The long nights over.”

“The dawns finally here.”

Jaime sniffed away his tears and finally pulled back from her, his hand interlacing with hers. He looked at the two guards who were both sharing smiles that didn’t quite reach their brown eyes.

“You two alright?” Jaime asked them.

“We’re glad you survived, Lannister,” Jaehaerys answered in the common tongue. “You and Lady Brienne. We do not regret dishonoring her commands. But... Our Queen was not always like how you saw her.”

“She freed us,” Dustmagget added sadly. “She saved us. She was a good ruler in Meereen.”

“No matter what she did in the end, we will never be able to forget that.”

“Nor should you,” Brienne agreed from her sick bed. “Daenerys did a bad things… a LOT of bad, but she did a lot of good too. People aren’t all good or all bad. Sometimes they’re… them.” She looked up at Jaime and smiled. “They’re just them.”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it before he turned back to the freedmen. “What will you do now? Will you go back to Essos with the rest of the the Unsullied?”

“No,” said Dustmagget with a confirming nod from Jaehaerys. “We disobeyed, we protected you when she warned us not too.”

Brienne furrowed her brow. “You were warned not to protect us?”

Jaehaerys turned and Dustmaggot lifted his shirt. Brienne gasped and Jaime’s eyes went wide when he saw the clear markings of a Dothraki whip marking his back. 

“We do not deserve to live in our Queens city,” Jaehaerys said after a moment, pulling his tunic down and turning back to face them. “She freed us and we disobeyed.”

“Where will you go then?” Jaime could hear the concern in Brienne's voice.

“Unsullied strong. We will figure it out.”

Jaime bit his lip, glancing down at Brienne who looked up and met his eyes, the two of them speaking without words. “Being a commander of a household guard is a very honorable position in our country.” Jaime turned back to the two men. “Seeing as Tarth’s former head guard is-...”

“In the dungeons awaiting justice,” Brienne finished for him, bitterness and hate heavy on her tongue. Jaime gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“That being the case; my Lady and I are in need of a new head for the Evenstar guard and we would be honored if you two shared the responsibilities.”

“You’d be well paid,” Brienne added quickly. “And given your own chambers in Evenfall, of course.”

“Evenfall?” Jaehaerys asked.

“Evenfall Hall.” A smile flickered to her lips at the name. “My home on Tarth.”

Dustmaggot and Jaehaerys looked at Jaime, then at Brienne and then each other. The two of them conversed quietly in Valerian. Jaime had no idea what they were saying so he just looked between them and Brienne when she offered a word or answer in the foreign tongue. When the talking was done the tall knight wore a smile and he correctly assumed the talks had gone their way.

“We will be honored to be your head guard,” Jaehaerys told Jaime, and Dustmaggot nodded curtly beside him.

The lion grinned at his two new guards but before they could further cement any details there was a soft knock on her door before Waldon walked in carefully holding a small bundle in his arms swaddled in a rose colored blanket littered with Tarth suns and wailing. Jaime’s breath hitched as the grey eyed man walked over to the bed. Dustmaggot and Jaehaerys gave them an unnoticed bow and left the chambers, leaving the small family alone with the maester.

“Someone missed you, My Lady,” Waldon said with a soft smile as he placed the cub in Brienne’s outstretched arms. She cradled Joanna to her chest, smiling as big as she ever had before, sapphire eyes shining with love.

Jaime kneeled down beside the bed and laid a soft kiss on Joanna’s forehead. She was so small, so perfect so beautiful… she was everything he dreamed about these last seven months. 

“Hello, my little love,” Brienne cooed in a voice so soft and gentle that it almost shocked Jaime that a sound like that could come from the deep voices tall warrior. The wailing babe settled down almost immediately and looked up at her mother with big blue wet eyes. Brienne smiles down at her daughter and ran a finger over the silky smooth skin of her cheek. “How is it possible to love someone you just met so much?” she mused out loud.

“It’s almost terrifying how easy it is,” Jaime answered, adjusting the rose colored wool cap on her head. Joanna blinked and turned her eyes up to look at Jaime, and the lion beamed down at his cub. “Hello, my beautiful girl,” he purred softly. “My beautiful Joanna.”

She was content for a moment longer before her eyes clenched shut and a sorrowful pitiful cry filled the room.

“Oh no, my little love, no crying,” Brienne said softly, gently rocking her in her strong arms. “No crying Joanna, you’re okay. Your mother’s got you.”

“She was last fed two and a half hours ago,” Waldon told her. “She’s probably hungry. Do you want me to bring the wet nurse?”

Brienne clutched the baby close to her chest. “I don’t want a wet nurse. I want to nurse her myself.”

“Are you sure, My Lady?”

“She’s sure,” Jaime said, and Brienne flashed him a grateful smile. “Tell the wet nurse thank you but we won’t have need of her services any longer.”

Waldon inclines his head in a polite nod. “Of course. I’ll leave you to it then, My Lady. Do you want the bassinet brought in or would you rather she stay with the maids?”

“I would like her bassinet brought in. I don’t want to leave her.” 

She almost seemed embarrassed at the admission, like there was something shame-worthy about not wanting your newborn to leave your side after almost losing her countless times and then having to lie about the newborns demise.

Another polite head nod. “Of course, My Lady. I’ll bring it right up.”

When he left the small family alone Brienne took a deep shaky breath and pulled a breast out of the loose fitted sleep shirt she wore and held Joanna up to her nipple. She frowned as the baby didn’t latch but instead continued her cries that were growing in volume with every passing second.

“Come on, my little love,” the blonde knight urged gently, trying to guide Joanna’s mouth over where she was supposed to latch on. “Come on, Joanna, you can do it…”

Brienne turned to look at him. “She’s not eating,” his knight said, her voice thick and wet and heavy with disappointment,  “She doesn’t want to suckle… Go tell Waldon to bring the Wet Nurse please.”

“Hang on,” Jaime told her, grabbing the pillow beside her and placing it in her lap before he took the baby and laid Joanna as straight as he could on her side. He helped prop her breast up just slightly with a small white cloth.

“Now try,” he urged over Joanna’s heartbreaking cries, cradling the babies head to give her a little more support. Brienne took a deep breath and brought Joanna to her breast again and, like magic, her lips latched onto her nipple and she began to suckle, the tiny little muscles in her jaw working feverishly while the sound of small, barely audible gulps seemed to fill the whole room. 

Brienne gasped and Jaime chuckled as he watched her eyes fill with both tears and wonder. “She’s eating…” she breathed, a beaming wide grin on her face as she rubbed the baby’s back. “She's really eating… Jaime…” 

Jaiem stroked Joanna's head as she drank, letting his fingers comb though the small thin wisps of pale blonde hair. He turned towards Brienne and shared her smile before he leaned in, giving her a soft smile and leaning their foreheads against one another for a moment before they both turned back to their cub and watched her until she was full and laid her head against Brienne's chest, her eyelids already growing heavy with a tiny thin line of white milk trailing from her lips down her pale white cheek. 

“She’s so beautiful,” Brienne whispered as to not wake Joanna, rubbing the baby’s back in small soothing circles. Tears flew to her eyes and when Jaime asked what was wrong she just took a shuddering breath before she gazed up at him. “I just-... I love her so much and I never thought this would ever happen for me. I had given up hope of children, and marriage but then you two came around and… and it’s like I’m in the most perfect dream, and I’m terrified one day I’m going to wake up and everything will be taken from me.”

Jaime buried his hand in her short curls and pressed his warm lips against hers. “You won’t wake up, Brienne. I promise. Nothing else is going to be taken from you; not me, not Joanna, not your home…” He smiled. “You’re going to get to be happy.  _ We _ are going to get to be happy…” 

They stayed like that, huddled under the furs together with Joanna hardly leaving one or the others arms, even when Waldon brought the bassinet up. Sansa came up to visit later that night, all coos and smiles while she held the baby while Podrick stood in the background, looking terrified at how much Sansa was fawning over the newborn to the point Jaime had to laugh.

_ The future Wadern of the North, terrified of the prospect of children and a Westerner at that… If Ned Stark could see his House now. _

The next day Tyrion showed up after the meeting of the Great Houses, looking haggard and worse for wear but he wasn’t drunk, yet, so he took that as a win.

“So who’s our new King?” asked Jaime, wrapping his arm around Brienne’s waist.

“Long Live Jon Snow, the first of his name,” Tyrion said, raising a goblet Brienne had on her stand before he filled it with wine. 

“Jon Snow?” Winterfell's bastard?”

“One in the same.”

“King Jon Snow… That’s gonna take some getting used to.

“It was unanimous. Gendry Baratheon voted for him the very first round, Yara pressed the promise that Daenerys made to her that the Iron Islands could have their independence and Jon swore on his honor as soon as things settled down he would look into independence for both the Iron Islands and the North so she voted for him and once Tully realized no one was gonna vouch for him he cast a vote for Snow as well.” 

Who did you vote for?” asked Jaime as Tyrion took a king swallow of wine.

“Well when I asked who would forgive House Lannister for all our crimes and forget our recent history if they were made king, Jon and the Dornishman were the only ones not falling over themselves to assure me that we would be gifted forgiveness.”

“So who’d you pick?”

“Jon Snow. Then Bronn just followed my lead.”

Jaime blinked. “...He swore not to show our House mercy so you voted him as king?”

“He was the only one being honest,” Tyrion explained. The dwarf looked so tired and haggard and old and Jaime felt a fear creep into his chest for his brother. “I’m tired of dishonest kings, Jaime…” 

“What about Martell and Arryn?”

He drank heavily from the goblet. “The new Prince of Dorne said as long as a lion never sat on the Iron Throne he would go with the majority which was lovely to hear considering I sat right beside him, and little Robin Arryn I don’t think even bothered to find out why he was summoned to the Capital. Then a fat balding lord from the Riverlands put his own name up for consideration.”

“I thought only the great houses were invited to the Kingsmoot?”

“They were but Lord Donal of House Turump decided his House was the grandest, his keep the mightiest and had a better claim than the rest, with a gallant proclamation that only he could make Westeros great again.” Tyrion smirked. “Lady Yara threatened to have him stripped and thrown out to sea during low tide if he spoke again. That almost got her a vote from me.”

 

“So Jon Snow is our king.”

“Jon Snow is our king. With Ser Davos serving as his hand, Yara Greyjoy retaining her position as Master of Ships.” Tyrion finished the rest of the wine and refilled the cup. Jaime gave him a wearisome look that he ignored. “If his brother accepts, Bran will be Master of Whispers and I am to be Snow’s Master of Coin.”

“Congratulations,” Jaime told his brother with a genuine smile. “I’m proud of you, Tyrion.”

He looks far less enthused then what Jaime thought he would at the news. “Hmm… you’d think kings would want me as far away from them as possible considering all three Lannister’s are responsible for the death of a monarch. But in my defense, I thought another niece of mine was dead

“I’m sorry for lying to you,” Brienne told the former Hand, face red with shame. “I just… I didn’t want-... Daenerys would have killed her, Tyrion.” 

“Technically you didn’t lie,” the younger lion mused. “I just assumed the worst, and you know what they say about those who assume.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“You make an ass out of you and me.”

A hint of a smile graced His Lady’s features. “So you aren’t mad?”

Tyrion shook his head. “No. Someone had to do it I suppose. If it wasn’t me it would have been Snow or Arya.”

“Does anyone else know what happened?” asked Jaime, remembering what the small skinny wolf told him about Daenerys and Greyworm ‘leaping to their deaths.’ “I was told there was a… bit of a coverup.”

“There is,” Tyrion admitted. “We needed a way for her armies to stand down, and it would have made no sense for someone to kill her after the fact.”

“So she jumped.”

“Mmm. It was such a high tower that when she landed that her face was absolutely unrecognizable.”

“So tragic,” Jaime snickered, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “How much does Dragon street stew go for, I wonder?” 

Brienne frowned at the knight. “Jaime, that’s enough,” she warned him, glancing at a forlorn and guilt riddled Tyrion. 

The younger lion shrugged, feigning disinterest rather than pain at the carelessness his older brother spoke with. Jaime could tell he was fighting melancholy and grief from spreading on his features.

_ He really did believe in her _ , Jaime realized sadly.  _ Before she burned the city and went mad, he truly believed in her promise to make the world a better place… _

Tyrion cleared his throat and smoothed out the wrinkles in his tunic before he nodded to the bassinet where Joanna laid sleeping. “Is this her?” He was desperate to change the subject and Brienne was more than happy to give him an out.

The blonde knight nodded. “Her names Joanna.”

Jaime saw the light return to his brother’s pale green eyes and the corner of his lips turned up. “That’s… a very beautiful name, Brienne.” 

Tyrion want over to the white lace bassinet, it’s edges yellowed with age but Waldon explained it was between that and a nicer looking black one with red dragons surrounding it.

The choice for both of them was easy.

He peered in at sleeping babe and smiled down at her. “She’s quite the little kitten…” Tyrion cocked his head to the side as his eyes looked over her. “She’s the exact spitting image of Tommen when he was born.”

Jaime blushed a deep scarlet and he whipped his head towards Brienne, expecting anger or sadness or disgust at the fact he compared her daughter to a bastard born of incest, even if Tommen had been sweet and soft and adorable beyond belief but Brienne just smiled and thanked him kindly.

After Tyrion took his leave Jaime stammered out an apology.

She furrowed her brow when he finished. “For what?”

“For what Tyrion said about... about Tommen.” She looked even more confused so he continued. “He said Joanna looks like Tommen.”

“Well I hope she would look like him, he’s her brother.”

“I- I mean she does, in a certain light.”  _ In all lights. The two of them could have been twins.  _ “But I just… I didn’t know if you didn’t want to be reminded of… of them so I didn’t want to say anything…”

The confusion faded quickly and was replaced by an agonizing pity. “Tommen was your  _ son,  _ Jaime…” She sounded offended on his behalf, the same way she spoke whenever he would lament that he wasn’t good man, an honorable knight. “Joffrey was as well and Myrcella was your daughter.” She took his face in her hands and made him to look into her eyes. “I won’t ever,  _ EVER _ , tell you that you aren’t allowed to talk about your other children or not remember them or stay silent when something reminds you of them.”

Jaime fought against the sudden storm of tears from falling. “Really?” He hated the sad pathetic way his voice grew soft and shaking.

“Really.”

Jaime glanced over at the bassinet where his baby laid sleeping and he turned back to Brienne. “She does look EXACTLY like him.” There was almost a relief in his voice. “I don’t think even Cersei would have been able to tell them apart.”

He waited with baited breath. He waited for her to flinch, to cringe, to realize what he was doing by comparing Joanna to his son, but she kept her word and just smiled at him.

“Tell me about him,” she said after a moment.

“Who?”

“Tommen. What was he like as a boy, what were his favorite things to do, what did he want to be when he reached adulthood…”

Jaime leaned back against the headboard. A flicker of a sad smile graced his lips. “He was… he was very kind. Very quiet, very sweet, very meek and mild. As a baby he never threw his toys, rarely threw tantrums… he just wanted to snuggle and stay in Cersei’s arms all day and play quietly with his little stuffed stag.”

“He sounds like he was a godsend of a child.”

“Oh he was. Robert couldn’t stand it. Even when Tommen was a baby he wanted ‘his’ sons to run and scream and get into mischief, ‘act like real men’ but Tommen never did. But he had Joffrey so he mostly left his second one alone. He was so tender-hearted it’s almost hard to believe he was a Lannister. He was unbelievably fearful of his whipping boy getting hurt, he would have murdered the Father Himself if it kept Pate from getting hurt.” 

Jaime pursed his lips as the memory of his youngest boy turned sour. “Once though, when Tommen was eight he found a bird with a broken wing outside the Sept. He wanted to take it back to the castle and nurse it back to health but Cersei said to just leave it alone. He actually yelled at her, told her he wanted to save the bird and she couldn’t stop bum so she grabbed him by the ear, said if he wanted to argue with her then he could whip the whipping boy himself until he bled. Then told him that if he protested doing the punishment he’d have the boys tongue ripped out.”

Jaime could feel Brienne tense beside him and he stared at the furs. Shame on his twins behalf burned bright on his cheeks.

“That’s… How could she do that?” she whispered, disgusted and aghast. “He was a little boy, they both were…”

“Cersei loved her children more than anything, she just expected them to behave and listen to her.”

“But to make an eight year old whip another boy until he bled… Jaime, that’s cruel. That’s torture.”

“He disobeyed his mother, he needed to be punished,” Jaime said, repeating the same thing he told himself over and over when he arrived back from hunting with Robert and his twin told him what had happened. 

“There’s a significant difference between a smack on the bottom with an open hand and THAT.”

“I know.” He looked down at the fur blanket and plucked at a loose string. “I know.”

They didn’t talk much about Tommen after that, and later that night as he laid in bed and Brienne held Joanna in her arms thinking her lion asleep, he heard her ask the Mother to let Jaime’s fallen children and Pate the whipping boy all find peace amongst the stars, and to let them cradled by the moon and find warmth in the sun’s fire, a common Tarth prayer for the dead.

He noticed she didn’t say a prayer for Cersei.

Days later when she had mostly healed and Jaime could take a step without flinching, she dressed herself in her finest knightly garb; a high collared velvet tunic quartered rose and azure with yellow and white gemstones making up the sun and moon of her House, cobalt colored breeches, and the boots Jaime had made for her with the sun and moon on the sides cleaned of any dirt or debris so they appeared as new as the day he gave them to her. A dangerous storm brewed in her deep blue eyes. 

“I want him to know exactly who's carrying out his punishment,” she said darkly as she sheathed not Oathkeeper, but Moonbright in its handsome blue scabbard.

She waited until the first star appeared in the sky and the crescent moon overhead shone a bright silver. Jaime gave one of the handmaids Joanna and followed her to the courtyard where Hayden was being brought up, the two of them flanked by their new commanders, dawning the same rose colored armor and azure helm the rest of their brothers in arms wore.

The former Lord was on his knees with his arms bound in chained, with two of the sapphire soldiers on either side. The moment he saw Brienne approaching Jaime smirked when he saw the look of terror overwhelming his handsome face.

“Kill her!” He roared to be two islanders who paid him no mind as Brienne stood in front of him. “Arrest her, she’s going to murder your Lord!”

“Do you want him on his knees or standing, M’Lady?” a large burly guard asked Brienne, ignoring Hayden’s pleas.

“The Queen made me your lord! I am your Evenstar!”

“He can stay on his knees,” Brienne growled, eyes burning holes into the frightened man kneeling before her. “Ser Hayden Flatsun.”

“I am your Lord! The Queen commanded it! You have no right!”

It was as if he didn’t even speak. “In the name of Jon Snow, the First of His Name, rightful king of the Andals and of the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I, Brienne of Tarth, the Evenstar and Lady of Evenfall Hall, sentence you to die.” 

Her voice shook for a moment when she called herself the title Jaime knew she didn’t want to call herself for years and years to come, but she never lost her composure and no tears shone in her eyes.

Brienne unsheathed Moonbright and the dark blue steel and sapphire laden hilt appeared almost black in the light of the torches surrounding them. She trembled but not from nerves but with fury that the Stormlanders were known for when wronged. 

“Do you have any last words?”

Hayden looked towards either guard who remained stony faced in the face of their ‘lords’ execution, to Brienne. Tears filled his eyes and snot dribbled from his nose. “My Lady, please, I-... I’m sorry! I’m sorry for every insult I ever spat at you, I’m sorry for all of the mocking! I’ll eave Tarth, I’ll never bother you again, you or your family I swear! I served Selwyn well, please!” A sob ripped past his lips and he crumpled to the floor. “Please! Please, have mercy, My Lady! You’re so kind! You’re so merciful and honorable, please! I don’t want to die! I’m afraid! Please!”

Brienne's hand shook with rage. “I gave you a last word.” Her snarl was full of fire and fury. “More than you deserve, more than you gave my father… and you used it to be a coward…”

“My Lady, please! I-!”

She let out that familiar battle cry that Jaime knew so well and swung Moonbright up and under, landing the point in his bowels and pushing up up up. Hayden gasped in pain, green eyes bulging, gagging and choking on his blood as she dragged the sword upwards, twisting the blade as she went until he fell limp onto the grass, a thick wide pool of crimson spreading out and soaking into the dirt and his innards laying in a steaming pile beside him.

Brienne yanked the sword from him and without another word she turned and stalked back to the castle, gripping the blood stained sword so tight her knuckles were pure white and silent tears running down her cheeks, maimed and smooth alike.

After an hour or so Jaime made his way back to their chambers and opened the door slowly. He saw Brienne in a chair besides her small desk, holding Joanna close to her chest and gazing down at her. Moonbright, cleaned of any traces of red, laid on the table along with its scabbard.

“You okay?” he asked softly, shutting the door behind him. 

She didn’t answer for a long while. “I was dishonorable she finally muttered. “I should have given him a clean death.”

“You gave him no more than what he gave your father.”

Brienne ignored him and Jaime sighed, knowing there was nothing he could say right now would rid her of the guilt she was feeling. So instead he walked over and laid a kiss upon her brow before he gazed down at Joanna and laid a head on the sleeping babe’s forehead. 

“What time do we leave tomorrow?” she asked after a while.

“Around mid-day,” Jaime answered. “If the winds are favorable we should reach Tarth in less than a week.”

“And you’re ready to be Lord of Tarth?”

“Yes,” he said at once. “As soon as we’re able to marry and even before then. I want to help you rule your Sapphire Isle.”

She nodded slowly.

“Then it’s yours.” Jaime blinked and Brienne looked up at him. “Moonbright goes to the Lord of Tarth.”

Jaime’s she’s went wide and he looked at the sapphire laden sword that had belonged to her father and grandfather and ancestors. “Brienne, I-... It’s a beautiful sword but I-... You should wield it. Not me. I promised your father I would give you his sword.”

“Moonbright was given as a gift to the Evenstar from the Stormking,” she explained. “Because we were the only ones to keep faith with our king, we were the only ones who remained honorable... We were the only ones to keep our oath.”

Jaime’s face fell and his jaw dropped as he looked at the blue steel on the table. “Brienne, I-...” He had to clear away the catch in his throat. “I’m not worthy…”

“You are.” She sounded so confident that he almost,  _ almost _ , believed her. Brienne reached up and laid a hand on his cheek. “It’s yours, Jaime. Besides…” A hint of a smile grew on her face. “I already have a sword.”

The next morning was surprisingly easy going. Most of Brienne's things were still in the hull of the ship and had been moved to the Lord’s Cabin. Jaime had nothing but his new sword and scabbard, the clothes on his back, a small wardrobe that he would need for the journey home, and the blonde haired babe in his arms. He stood beside Brienne on the docks, watching as the usual stoic Sansa Stark fought back tears while Podrick stood beside his northern Lady, arm wrapped around her slender waist and Tyrion was next to his former squire.

“I’m going to miss you, Brienne,” Sansa told the knight.

“I’m going to miss you as well, My Lady. I’ll come visit you in Winterfell,” Brienne promised the redhead. Jaime could see her fighting back her own tears. “Once Joanna’s old enough to make the journey north, I swear it.”

“I know.” Every moment that passed the two women were getting closer to letting their tears fall.  “And once things settle down in the North I’ll come visit Tarth.”

“I can’t wait for you to see it, My Lady…”

They held out for not even half a heartbeat before Sansa hurried forward and threw her arms around the tall knight, burying her face in her shoulder. Brienne froze for a moment before she tentatively returned the hug.

“You were my first true and loyal friend,” Jaime heard the wolf whisper. “Thank you…”

“It was an honor and a privilege to serve you, Sansa,” Brienne breathed, her voice thick with tears. “Truly. I’ll never forget you.”

The two women held each other for a long moment before they pulled away. Sansa rubbed her eyes and, when she remembered she was in the middle of a crowded dock, she straightened out and did her best to ignore the tears streaming down her ivory face. While she did Brienne turned to Podrick. Instead of wasting words the two knights wrapped their arms around one another in a fierce hug. Podrick had to mop the tears from his face and Jaime saw Brienne do the same. No words were said, none were needed, apart from four from her and six from him.

“I love you, Podrick.”

“I love you too, My Lady.”

A moment later they broke the embrace and Brienne took a shuddering breath and clapped her former squire on the shoulder. “Take care of her, Podrick. She means a lot to me.”

Podrick looked towards Sansa and his face exploded in a melody of light and softness. “I will, My Lady.”

Jaime shook the younger knights hand and told him it was an honor to know him. The lion and wolf looked at each other for a fairly long moment before she inclined her nod, a silent sign of grudging respect, one that he returned with equal platitude. 

Sansa kissed Joanna on the brow and then, before either of them could shed any more tears, she and Podrick made their way back to the Redkeep leaving both knights and the Master of Coin standing beside the ship with sun and crescent moon sails.

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you, Lord Tyrion,” Brienne told the shorter man. “I would be dead right now if it wasn’t for you.”

“Oh no, I’m sure you would have managed a way to get out of that little scrap alive,” Tyrion said. “And all the others. You found the wits and sanity to deal with my brother, you have the wits and sanity to escape a murderous Dragon Queen.”

Brienne chuckled and bowed her head. “Well nevertheless, I thank you for everything you’ve done for me and Joanna. And for… for convincing me to save him when I first arrived.”

“For that, Lady Brienne, you have my eternal welcome and my eternal thanks.”

“Will we be seeing you at the wedding?” Jaime asked him. 

“Of course you will. Someone has to represent the greatest House in Westeros.”

Jaime chuckled softly before he handed Joanna to Brienne and then knelt down, enveloping his brother in a tight hug that he eagerly returned.

“You’re happy,” Tyrion muttered in his ear. “Stay happy. Stay with her. Don’t fuck it up again because you can’t see what kind of man you truly are.”

“I won’t,” Jaime promised him. “I’ll never leave her side.”

The two lions held one another for a second longer before Tyrion pulled away and clapped his brother on the shoulder. Brienne handed the baby down to Jaime and Tyrion kissed his nieces cheek and smiling when she wrapped her tiny hand around his outstretched finger.

“Joanna…” he mused. He looked up at the tall knight. “That really is a beautiful name…”

Without another word he turned and he too headed back to the castle. 

When they were finally alone Jaime stood and gazed up at the fairly sizeable ship. 

“Are you ready?” Brienne asked him, almost nervous.

Jaime turned to look at his knight, reaching down and taking her hand in his as he did.

“I am,” he assured her with a smile that she met easily. “Let’s go home, My Lady…” 

 

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	32. Chapter 32

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not!”

“You are.”

“I’m not!”

“The mother of my child and future bride is a cheat and a liar… you hate to see it.”

“I swear, to the Father-!”

“Brienne of Tarth- the most dishonorable woman I’ve ever had the fortune of meeting.”

Jaime couldn’t help the grin that rose to his lips nor the short laugh at her look of shock written on her features coupled with her own failed attempt to hide a smile.

“You took your hand off your Queen,” Jaime told her, again, as he looked over the checkered game board at her. “I saw you. That means your turns over, and I get a chance to do this...” He took hold of his knight and moved it two over and one up, trapping her king between two of his ebony colored pawns, his left rook and now his knight. “Which, of course, means checkmate.” He smirked at the tall woman sitting across from him before he took hold of the hand that was on the table and brought the back of it to his lips. “A knight defeated by a knight, you almost have to admire the irony.”

“You won by misdeeds and trickery, Ser,” she told him sourly but the light shining in her blue eyes let him know full well she was simply joining in the jests. “I didn’t take my hand off my piece.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did.”

“I taught you this game and you’re going to tell me what I did or didn’t do?”

“Considering you’ve been playing for close to twenty years and I’ve only been playing a little less than one and have won nearly every time we’ve played together, yes I will.” Jaime laughed again at the stunned expression, beaming as she quickly started to reset the board, determination etched in her features. “Gods I love you, Wench.”

“Mmm. You’re going to love me a lot less after I’ve beaten you so savagely it’ll take all the Maesters in the Citadel to revive you.” 

Jaime just laughed but before she could make the first move there was a loud cry from above deck, something that suspiciously sounded like ‘land ho!’. The two knights quickly abandoned their game, Brienne grabbed the tiny sleeping bundle in the bassinet beside the bed and the two of them hurried out of their ships cabin and made their way up to the deck. 

It had been six days of smooth sailing from the Blackwater to the Straits of Tarth on the Tarth ship  _ Sunvein _ . 

For the most part at least…

The first day out to sea though Jaime was playing with Joanna on the top deck while Brienne helped set the rigging on the mainsail. He watched the cords of thick strong muscles twisting and flexing in Brienne's impossibly long legs as she assisted the sailors for a moment before the screech of the dragons drew him out of his fantasy of burying his face between said legs. All the men gaped in awe at the black beast as it flew overhead and swooped down, landing on the edge of the ships with a terrible screeching roar, spit coating the deck of the ship and steam rising up from its nostrils.

Brienne drew her sword and Jaime handed a now wailing Joanna off to one of the sailors and ordered him to take her to one of the lifeboats and prepare it to drop.

The dragon fixed its hateful black stare on Jaime and when it growled deep and low in its chest a sickening feeling that the animal not only knew his past with Aerys but remembered when Jaime tried to skewer him and his mother on the Goldroad filled him full of dread.

He drew Moonbright but before he could take a step towards the beast, Brienne threw herself in front of him, Oathkeeper raised high. 

“Brienne get out of the way!” he barked

“Stay behind me!” she shouted back.

“I will not!”

Drogon threw his head back and roared, shooting a stream of fire a hundred foot long into the sky. The heat was so intense and the flames so blinding he was forced to shield his eyes from it. There was pain and anguish and fury in its ear shattering song, one even Jaime recognized.

_ He’s mourning,  _ Jaime realized. Joanna’s screams as the sailor prepared to lower the lifeboat echoed with Drogon’s screeches, both of them crying out the same thing in their own language.  _ He misses his mother… _

A moment later the dragon took flight, rocking the boat violently from side to side as he pushed off, a great black shadow against the sun until he disappeared beyond the clouds.

That was the last they, or any of Westeros, saw of Drogon and the last time anyone from the seven kingdoms would hear his lament for the silver haired queen. 

That was the first day of their journey. After that nearly a week passed with no further incident apart from the occasional half-hearted argument about rather Brienne took her hand off a piece after she made an ill-timed move, and now finally, finally, they could see the calm blue waters surrounding Tarth and the lush green island in the center of it, like an emerald set into a sapphire.

The long row of mountains that went down the center of it, each of them with large thick white caps that a less knowledgeable man might have mistaken for snow but Jaime knew them to be the famous marble mines of Tarth, pushed upwards through the jade meadows like perky breasts on a maiden. The beaches were nearly empty seeing as the chill of winter was in the air, even if there was no snow it was still too cold for swimming, but he could picture them bursting with Brienne's countrymen, laughing and playing on the white sandy beaches and swimming in crisp clear blue water during the long hot days of summer. The waterfalls were roaring brilliant blue with sky white foam and the meadows were as green as anything he had ever seen before.

The true crown of the island was Evenfall Hall. It wasn’t near as big as the Redkeep or Casterly Rock, but it was still a castle of considerable size and made entirely out of pristine white marble that shone as bright as a new penny in the sunlight. The great white keep stood on the edge of the cliffs overlooking the brilliantly blue sea and Jaime couldn’t see them but he knew there were stairs carved into the rocks for easy access to the private beach where only the Evenstar, his (or in this case ‘her’) family and honored guests were allowed to go. Brienne told him Tarth gave the Vale the marble needed to construct the Eyrie and Jaime knew that while the sky castle was a beautiful enough keep with high white marble walls, it was clear that the original Evenstars saved the best and brightest rock for his own Keep and the marble carvers must have had to work relentlessly to make the castle as beautiful as their waters.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Brienne’s eyes flicking nervously between Jaime and the island. She was watching him apprehensively waiting for his opinion.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, watching as relief flooded her face and her shoulders became less rigid. “I passed by it a few years back but seeing the island up close… Tarth is truly lovely, Brienne.”

She let out a breath he hadn’t realized she was holding and she pointed to the island that was growing larger and larger as they sailed towards it. “That’s your home, my little love,” Brienne told Joanna as she turned her out so Joanna could see the large island. She stroked the baby’s velvety soft cheek with a calloused finger. “That’s Tarth.”

Joanna cooed in a rather content fashion and Jaime swore he saw a hint of a smile on her tiny features.

An hour or so later they were pulling up to the busy port. Ships with sails of nearly every House in the Stormlands were docked here as well as a few from the north and Jaime even saw one or two sigils belonging to the River lords. Sails bearing strange magnificent beasts and colors from across the narrow sea were in port as well. Everywhere he looked there were fish wives were shouting the day’s catch, young green sailors were on their way to the brothel at the end of the port and hard grizzled captains bellowed and laughed at the crude jokes their fellows shared. The smell in the air was tropical and fragrant, with the smell of the sea and shore mixed in with the islands lush exotic vegetation.

When the gangplank was finally lowered Brienne took a deep breath, shifted Joanna to her right arm, grabbed his remaining hand and the two of them made their way down onto the wooden docks, flocked by their guards. The steely eyed unsullied commanders made the men and women on the port made sure they had wide berth.

“Brienne the Beauty! What a sore sight for the eyes!” A fishmonger cried out, making her face go scarlet. The man laughed. “With a bastard on the tit too! Was the bloke blind or too drunk to see what was wetting his wick?”

“Leave her alone, Willem! Welcome home, M’Lady! We’ve missed our swordmaiden these last few years!” another voice yelled from the throws, and her blush deepened.

There were a few more shouts directed towards her, nearly all of them polite, another insult that made Jaime want to find the cryer and throw them into the sea, and even a handful of shouts of ‘Kingslayer’.  At the end of the dock Brienne’s rigid stern face broke out into a smile and her footsteps hurried until they were in front of an older man with white, long hair that hung over a friendly face weathered with age and hazel eyes that were more brown then green. He wore a pale yellow tunic with a large broken silver pickax on his breast. 

“Welcome home, My Lady,” the older man greeted her with a kind smile. He enveloped her in a hug that she returned as best she could with Joanna nestled in the crook of her arm. “It’s been too long, far too long.”

“It’s good to see you, Lord Hugh,” she told him before pulling away, her smile never faltering. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, My Lady.” His eyes flickered to the long scar on her cheek and she quickly ducked her head, failing miserably at using her short hair to cover up the scar. 

“How fares your wife?” Brienne asked, desperate to cover up the sudden awkwardness. 

“Jayne rests amongst the stars, unfortunately,”  he told Brienne with a sad smile. “Coming up on a year here, shortly.”

“I’m so sorry,” Brienne told him and Jaime could hear the sorrow in her voice and knew she wasn’t simply being polite. “I should have been here.”

“It was expected, unfortunately. She’d been ill for a while. But at least she got to meet her Criston’s grandson before she passed.”

Her big blue eyes grew wide. “Criston is a  _ grandfather _ ?! But Shireen, she can’t be more than-.”

“She’s sixteen years old, My Lady. Flowered, married to a blacksmith and living about an hours or so ride from Stormsend.”

“Gods has it really been that long since I’ve been here?” she gasped and Hugh laughed.

“Afraid so, My Lady. The Evenstar was actually at the babes first name day celebration.” The smile on his face faded. “I’m so sorry for what happened to him, by the way. His own guard too…”

Brienne bowed her head and Jaime gave her hand a small comforting squeeze. She looked back up at the man and forced a rather sad smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“Then he had the nerve to walk in here and claim Selwyn’s seat for his own… Disgusting. I would have taken my own sword to his throat, any one of us on the isle would have, if he hadn’t crawled back to Kingslanding asking the Dragon Queen for help.”

“Ser Hayden met his end,” Brienne told the old man. “Justice was served, I assure you, My Lord.”

“And the Dragon is no longer a Queen,” Jaime piped up. Hugh turned to face him, raising a white bushy brow. “She jumped from a tower after the rebels took back the castle. We have a white wolf as our king now, Jon Snow.”

“My Lord, my apologies,” Brienne said quickly. “May I introduce you to Ser Jaime of House Lannister, my betrothed. Jaime, this is Lord Hugh Caron, Evenfall’s castellan.”

“The honor is mine, My Lord,” Jaime greeted the man with a polite bow of his head before he stuck out out his hand. The old man took it grudgingly, eyeing him with that same look all the rest gave him. Kingslayer, oathbreaker, man without honor.

“Ser Jaime,” Hugh grumbled with a rather reluctant nod of his head but leaving the outstretched hand untouched, eyeing the sapphire laden sword at his hip darkly. Jaime let his hand drop and he glanced at Brienne whose crimson blush was back in full force. 

She cleared her throat and shifted Joanna so she was facing out again. “He’s also the father of my child.”

Hugh looked down at the bundle wrapped in the soft blue blanket with silver stars stitched on it and his smile grew wide. “Is this her?”

Brienne nodded. “Her name is Joanna.”

“She’s a vision, My Lady,” Hugh told her with a soft smile as he looked down at her. “She has your eyes.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

“Hopefully she has your honor as well.”

Brienne blushed scarlet again but rather than respond Jaime did was gift him that smile that was all razor blades.

“One can only hope, Lord Hugh,” he said, voice dripping with faux modesty that made the castellan glower but he took one look at Brienne's pleading eyes and decided against retaliating, deciding to instead just lead them to where the horses were tied up. He held Joanna while Brienne climbed into the saddle of a pretty little grey mare and Hugh got into a large dusty black workhorse and Jaime choose the last one available, a tall bay gelding. When Brienne offered to take the baby Jaime declined to hand her over.

“I’m used to riding with one hand,” he explained, securely tucking Joanna in the crook of his left arm. “I got her.”

They four of them rode through the small town of Sunrise, a vibrant bustling town besides the sea that lived in the shadow of the marble keep, with the four guards on horses of their own on all sides. Quite a few called out to Brienne who blushed in turn and gifted them with shy smiles and when one woman tried to get her attention by shouting, ‘Evenstar!’ he noticed the tears prick at her blue eyes but she blinked them away and just lifted a hand in recognition. Jaime urged his horse on to fall in step besides Hugh. 

“I’ve never known smallfolk to revere their Lady as much as her,” he said, half in awe. “Are the people of Tarth truly that devoted to their liege lord?”

“She’s been gone for ten years,” he reminded him. “They’re happy their Lady is back. Not to mention the Tarth family has given the island thousands of years of peace and prosperity with only a handful of bad apples to sully their name. The small folk recognize that a Tarth son has always tried to do better than their father, no matter how good a man his sire was.” The castellan looked back at Brienne who had stopped to talk to a lowborn woman in threadbare clothes. “Lord Selwyn was one of the best Evenstars the island had ever been blessed with.” There was a heavy grief in his voice that he quickly forced away when he remembered who he was talking too. “They know if she tries to be even half the Evenstar he was, no matter how unorthodox she is and how... unconventional her appearance, they know Brienne will be one of the most honorable rulers this island could ever hope to have.” He looked at Jaime and he could feel the hot judgement pouring off of him in thick waves. “So long as her lord husband allows her to be.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes at the man but before he could respond Hugh spurred his horse on and headed towards the gate of the castle. A moment later Brienne pulled up alongside him and the two of them continued their journey side by side and up, up, up the cliffs until their part finally rode through a large white metal gate.

If Evenfall was beautiful at a distance, up close it might have rivaled the castle in the heavens that the Seven Themselves lived in. Now that he was closer he could the sun and the moon in all its phases and stars carved into the rock and you would be hard pressed to find so much as a chip or imperfection in any of the marble. The top of the torrents alternated rose and azure and everywhere he looked the flags bearing the celestial sigil of Tarth waved proudly in the wind. The building blocks of marble used to build Evenfall fit together so seamlessly you could feel along the walls for a hundred years and not once be able to tell where one block begun and where the one beside it ended. There were no gargoyles or fierce beasts guarding the castle walls like the iron dragons who graced the high towers of Redkeep or the stone wolves who protected Winterfell but instead the spikes of a thousand sideway facing sun jutted out along the edges to defend against those who would try to attack the shining smooth white keep.

Once inside the gates and in the courtyard a stable boy ran forward first to Brienne and held her mares reins and then hurried over to grab hold the bay gelding Jaime rode so he could dismount without incident, no small feet considering he was carrying a baby in one handless arm. He took a deep breath as he looked around at the strange faces, all of their eyes screaming distrust of the infamous Kingslayer but they had enough sense not to say anything to the man who in a few short months would be their Lord. A middle aged stout dark haired washer-woman made her way over to Brienne and grabbed her large calloused hands in her and smiled. “Welcome home, M’lady.”

“Thank you, Wylla,” Brienne said, returning the warm look. “I’ve missed this place more than I can say, and I missed my home too.” She looked around at the faces who had come to greet the Evenstar for the first time. “Even if some of the people are strange to me.”

“Well some of the people might be strange to you but we’re all very sorry for what happened to your father.”

“Thank you,” Brienne told her with a sad smile before she turned around and beckoned Jaime forward. “Wylla this is Jaime Lannister, my betrothed. And this is our daughter, Joanna.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jaime said with a nod of the head. To her credit whatever Wylla truly felt about the Kingslayer she was able to hide it well behind a polite smile and a curtsy. 

“It’s an honor, M’lord. Oh, and look at the long blonde eyelashes on the babe!” Jaime chuckled as Wylla took Joanna from him and cradled her in her big soft arms. “M’lady, she’s absolutely darling!”

“Thank you,” Brienne said with a shy smile.

“Oh little Joanna Storm… what a beauty you’re going to be,” Wylla cooed and Jaime felt a hard slab settle in his stomach. 

“She’s a Lannister, Wylla,” Brienne corrected the washer woman, leaving no room for argument. “Her name is Joanna Lannister. The king legitimized her before we left the Red Keep.”

Jaime wondered if the pride that filled him to bursting whenever he heard his house’s name attached to his child would ever go away. He hoped it wouldn’t.

Wylla gave a polite nod. “Apologies, M’Lady. She is a little ball of sunlight though isn’t she?” As if on cue Joanna gurgled happily and grinned up at the woman before reaching out to Brienne who took her back in her arms. “Well I’m sure you’d want to freshen up and get some rest after such a journey.”

“That would be most appreciated. But I’m afraid I left the bassinet on the ship, do we have a crib or something in storage that Joanna can sleep in?” 

Wylla furrowed her brow in confusion. “Your father didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

A sad smile grew on her face. “He must have wanted it to be a surprise… If you’ll follow me, M’lady?”

Brienne and Jaime looked at one another confused before they followed her into the castle. 

The inside of the keep was just as beautiful, just as marvelous, just as astonishing. Solid white marble arches inscribed with yellow suns and silver crescent moons guarded long halls of marble floors delicately streaked with grey and gold. Elongated windows lent a beautiful view of the sapphire colored ocean and allowed the sunlight to stream in and reflect off the smooth rock during the day and would have shown a magnificent view of the night sky dusted with stars during the evening.  Woven tapestries of young lord’s fighting Lysine pirates armored in azure steel holding the same sword Jaime wore on his hip, ancient kings wearing pink and blue velvet bowing to the wisdom of the moon and young beautiful maids lounging in the curve of the sun scantily clad in rose colored silks hung on the smooth marble walls, nearly all of the subjects sharing the same deep blue eyes that Brienne had.

The washerwoman led them up curved marble stairs streaked with black until Jaime guesses they were near the top of one of the towers and stopped in front of a door near the end of the hallway. She grabbed a key from the depths of her bosoms and unlocked the heavy oak door that, Jaime noticed, had the sigil of Tarth carved into the door. The moment it opened his eyes went wide with shock and he saw Brienens hand fly to her mouth and tears began to race down her cheeks. 

“I don’t think you’re gonna need to need to bring up a bassinet from storage, M’lady,” Wylla said with a soft smile.

The room the washerwoman showed them to was a nursery, and it was clear as day that everything in there had been hand selected and chosen with love and care. The bassinet has been handcrafted from oak in the shape of a crescent moon and sanded down to the point it was as smooth as the marble walls and painted silver with a rocking chair sitting beside it, the throw rug was made of indescribably soft furs and had been designed in the shape of a large yellow sun with a silver crescent moon nestled snug inside of it and a handsome wardrobe stood in the corner six feet tall painted Tarth’s colors and when Jaime opened the doors he found countless silk and velvet dresses to be sure, but also a fair number of shirts and breeches like you might dress a son in. He also noticed they weren’t all rose and azure with suns and moons but some were crimson and gold, and the second dress he looked at he saw his houses lion proud and fierce on the bodice.

The mobile that hung over the bassinet was crowded with lions, suns and stars, and the bedding was a soft pink color with sapphire colored lions embroidered in the fabric with yellow stars stitched into their manes, and, guarding the door to the room, were two large and heavy gold colored marble lions that stood almost four feet tall with ruby eyes, sprung and ready to attack any who might harm its occupant. On the ceiling a golden lion standing inside a crescent moon looked down on the bassinet and a clear glass skylight allowed a perfect view of the sun at midday or a beautiful night sky.

On the walls were hand painted murals of waterfalls and white sandy beaches and lush jade meadows, and busy bustling cities; all the beauty of Tarth on four walls and when she was older she would be able to enjoy a stunning view of the ocean.

“It’s so beautiful.” Brienne’s voice was thick with sorrow and Jaime wrapped his arm around her. She laid a hand atop of the hand carved bassinet. “My father, he-...he really had all this set up for her?”

“He did, M’lady.” 

Brienne was struggling with her tears so instead she just silently nodded. Wylla gave her lady a polite bow and walked out, leaving the three of them alone.

“I thought… I didn’t know-... He really loved her, Jaime,” Brienne whispered as she held Joanna closer and gazed around the room. “He loved her and she’s never- she’s never going to know her grandfather, she’s never- never going to be held by him, she’s never going to be able to thank him for making all of this for her, she never-...”

Jaime wrapped her arms around her tight and felt her slump into his body. She buried her face into the crook of his shoulder and her body shook with sobs while she clutched at his tunic.  “I miss him,” Brienne admitted through her tears once she was able to speak. “I miss him so much, and it’s my fault he’s gone…”

“It isn’t,” he assured her in a soft whisper. “Brienne, you didn’t drive that sword through his back.”

“If I had been more docile to the Queen, if I hadn’t been so loyal to the North…”

“She was determined to end him no matter what you did. You could have dawned Targaryen colors and promised unending loyalty and she still would have taken the Evenstars life.” He kissed the top of her head, lightly swaying her in his arms. “And she WILL know her grandfather. She will, Brienne, I will spend the rest of my days asking every man, woman and child on Tarth for stories about your father that I can tell Joanna, and all of our cubs about him.”

He pulled away, pressing his lips to hers as soft as velvet and brushing her tears away with his thumb. “I love you, my sapphire beauty. So much.” Another gentle kiss. “So much.”

After Brienne had calmed down some, she laid a sleeping Joanna into the moon shaped bassinet an hour or so later the two of them headed out of the nursery, shutting the door behind them. 

“I had no idea he was planning this,” Brienne told him again. “I thought for sure we were gonna have to have her sleeping in a drawer for the first few months when we got back here.”

“He sent a raven to Lord Hugh two weeks after he found out you were pregnant.” 

Jaime and Brienne whipped towards the voice that appeared suddenly behind them. “Then two or three months ago he wrote and said to add the lion elements,” Aileen admitted, wringing her hands together nervously.

“What are you doing here?” Brienne asked sharply, eyes narrowing in fury. 

“I-I stowed away on the ship,” Aileen admitted. “Brienne, I-.”

“Use her title,” Jaime growled, making the girl flinch. He remembered the scream that ripped past Brienne’s lips when his own sword was thrust through his back and it was taking everything in him not to throttle the woman before him. 

Aileen swallowed hard. “My Lady, I don’t have anywhere else to go…”

“I don’t care,” she fumed without a sliver of pity. “Get out of my home.”

“The Queen, she was supposed to give me gold but-.”

“You betrayed my father for gold,” his knight snarled dangerously. Aileen blushed crimson as she bowed her head and nodded. “The man who took you in and gave you silk and jewels, the man you claimed to love-.”

“I did love him!”

“You didn’t!” Brienne exploded in a fire of anger and grief. “You cared as little for him as he cared for you or any other whore he took to bed! And now thanks to you my daughter will never know her grandfather!” Hot tears that she couldn’t blink away overflowed her blue eyes. “He won’t get to see her or any other child of mine grow up! You did it because you were scared of losing a privileged life in MY home with MY father and then you have the sheer audacity to come here and show up outside my daughters room and ask me for help because the Queen didn’t make good on her promise of blood money?”

At least Aileen had the grace to look ashamed. Her brown eyes grew wet. “I made her promise not to kill him.” She tried to keep her voice steady but failed miserably. “I swear I did, Brienne, I-!”

Jaime raised his hand and took a menacing step forward, making the former paramour scramble away. “I told you to call her by her title, bastard” he warned her again, letting the paramour know full and well this greying lion could maul just as easily as a young cat. “Put some respect to her name or you’ll be missing a few teeth along with a head.”

Brienne's eyes fluttered to him for a moment and when she looked back at Aileen he saw some of the storm had given way to pity.

Aileen swallowed hard as more tears streamed her face. She looked more frightened than sorrowful now. “Daenerys... she promised she would spare his life, My Lady. She swore to me. I never would have-... If, if he had just-.”

“Are you saying your betrayal is his fault?”

“No! No of course not, Br- My Lady! I just… I was scared of being tossed away!” she finally admitted. A pitiful sob ripped past her lips. “I didn’t want to leave, I didn’t- I can’t go back to my old life! Please, My Lady! I don’t- I don’t have anywhere else to go! You don’t know what it’s like! Every day I was groped by drunkards, I had to take it all with a smile just so I could get a few coppers a night! I couldn’t go back to that!” Jaime saw her eye the long scar on Brienens face. “I know you know what that’s like!”

“How dare you!” Jaime snarled. “Guards!”

“Now imagine that  _ every day _ !”

Dustmagget and another of their guard appeared suddenly. “Remove this woman!” Jaime barked. “If you see her on the grounds again throw her into the dungeon!”

Before either guard could grab her Brienne raised a hand to still them. There was a coldness he wasn’t used to seeing in her blue eyes but that same infallible honor shone as bright as ever. “I don’t want you to live in my castle” she told Aileen sharply and without argument. “If you’re going to work here you’re going to live offsite, I don’t care where but you won’t spend another night here so long as I’m the Evenstar.” Aileen looked less than pleased but rather than voice his displeasure she just snuffled her tears and nodded. “You’ll be paid a single silver a week, which is a single silver a week more than you deserve.”

“Yes, Bri- My Lady,” she corrected herself quickly with a nervous glance towards Jaime. 

“And you’re to donate all but three of your gowns my father gave you to the pot shops and all but one of your jewels. And none better near my sigil, the sun and moon are not yours to wear.”

“But Selwyn gave them to me!” she whinged in protest, “They were gifts!”

Honor might have compelled her to not allow her to go back to her old way of life but it didn’t extend to allow her to keep the gains she had made as the Evenstar’s paramour. “Then I hope you can survive on silk and velvet instead of meat and mead.”

Aileen bowed her head but eventually she agreed to the terms, unenthusiastically of course, but she agreed nonetheless.

“You are to obey me, Ser Jaime, and when she’s old enough Joanna and any other children we have without question.”

“I will My Lady.”

Brienne nodded curtly. “Go find Cyrenna or whoever is in charge of the kitchens nowadays. Ask what help they need in preparing the feast.”

Aileen gnawed at her lip for a moment. “My Lady, if you please… Tonight… the funeral-”

“You’ll be down below with the rest of the small folk,” Brienne told her without a hint of mercy.

She looked as if she wanted to argue but instead she just bowed her head and hurried away before the tears shining in her eyes could fall.

When Aileen was out of view Jaime wrapped his arms from behind her and laid his head on her shoulder. “You have a tender heart, Ser.”

“I know,” she replied with a sigh. Jaime kissed the crook of her neck. “I can’t tell you what I’d give not to have one some days…”

That night Brienne dressed in a long black silk shirt dotted with silver stars and black breeches. Her boots were the color of midnight while a simple black belt cinched her waist. She wore no weapon save for a small dagger with a silver hilt adorned with white gemstones on its hilt.

“Remember when I told you about the time I snuck into my father’s chambers and used his knife to cut my hair?” she told Jaime with a sad smile that barely hid her tears after she sheathed the blade in a plain black scabbard. “Turns out he kept it.”

She dressed Joanna in a lace dress of dark blue with silver moons embroiled on the bottom of the skirt, and Jaime wore a plain black tunic with a black velvet shirt underneath and black breeches while Moonbright and its handsome scabbard hung around his waist.

Hayden had tried to merely dispose of the Evenstar’s body in Kingslanding, wanting to leave Selwyn’s remains for the fish in the Blackwater but his guard wouldn’t heed his instructions to throw the body in the port and demanded it be brought back to Tarth. Then when he wanted to hurry the services along the Septon refused until his daughter was present, save for the burning aspect because the body had begun to bloat and rot and it had been too late to try to salvage it with embalming. 

The main sept on Tarth was made of the same handsome white marble as Evenfall and all seven statues were made of polished white rock as well. The stained glass windows showed well known scenes from the Seven Pointed Star but unlike most septs, this one had a large open space in the roof where sunlight could beam down on the Septon during the day or soft moonlight could flood in during the night, and right now a crescent moon was shining down on a seven sided porcelain urn painted with the Tarth sigil. 

Jaime and Brienne sat in the front row of the sept while Wylla sat in the row behind them them holding a thankfully content Joanna while Lord Hugh sat besides Jaime and Waldon took his place besides Brienne, the blue crystal hanging around his neck a deep dark cobalt in the torchlight. Highborn and lowborn alike filled the sept and the numbers were so great that the percussion flooded outside. Not only did it seem like everyone on the island had arrived for the funeral but men and women from all corners of the Stormlands had come to pay their respects to the fallen Evenstar. He spotted Aileen in a low cut black lace dress with a large gemstone encrusted crescent moon cinching the fabric together wiping away tears and looking longingly at the place of honor where’s Brienne sat from the far back corner of the sept.

_ She thinks she deserves to be up from with his family,  _ Jaime realized, his hand curling into a fist.  _ Brienne is too good sometimes. _

The Septon, a tall skinny older man with a widows peak of short grey hair dressed in white robes trimmed with gold named Meribald, stood in front of the congregation and welcomed them all with open arms, especially their long absent Lady and her new family. The funeral went as most did that followed the Faith of the Seven. Seven hymns were sung, Septon Meribald spoke about the attributes of each of the Seven Gods and then told a story about a time where Selwyn embodied those qualities, and then finally seven prayers were said to help guide his soul to the Gods. The whole time Brienne stared stony faced ahead, pale face carved from the same marble her island was known for, biting back tears. 

But rather then going back to Evenfall for a funeral feast after he was done speaking as was custom for a Lords death, a silent sister took the urn and made her way outside. Brienne and Jaime followed the mute woman and climbed atop their horses while the rest of the congregation filed out of the Sept as well. They kissed Joanna goodbye after Wylla promised to watch the baby and they would see them later back at the castle. Brienne was staring at someone in the crowd and when Jaime turned to look he saw Aileen with tears streaking down her sun kissed face. 

“Halfway up,” was all Brienne said before she reigned her horse around and galloped after the silent sister holding her father’s remains. Jaime glared at their newest serving girl as she climbed on top of a horse that had been procured for her before he hurried after Brienne. 

The ride to the Star Reach Cliffs was a somber, melancholy and silent one. Brienne did her best to remain stoic and impassive and while they may have fooled her countrymen, Jaime could see the raw grief screaming and clawing, desperate to come out. But he knew she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t appear weak, not in front of those she was supposed to lead.

The streets appeared to have been emptied but when they did encounter someone on the road they stepped to the side and bowed their heads as the group passed but they reach the base of the cliffs, a steep solid wall of grey rock with a trail just wide enough for two men to ride abreast that curved around and up, up, up the precipice. About halfway up the mountain Brienne reared around, stopping Aileen in her tracks so suddenly that the paramour’s horse whinnied and was forced to take a step back. 

“This is as far as you go,” Brienne told her sharply.

“My Lady, I-.”

But Brienne turned her mare back around and was nudging her horse upwards. Jaime bit back a smirk at the young woman’s tears before he continued side by side with his soon to be bride.

Nearly an hour later they summited and even bathed in darkness Jaime could see the beauty of the island spread out before him. From their view he could see everything laid out before him; lush vegetation, tall palm trees, rivers and waterfalls, cities and meadows, the sapphire ocean off in the distance and Evenfall looking like a white ghost shining against the black of night. The cliffs were clearly aptly names as they were so high up Jaime truly felt like he could reach out and grab a handful of the stars that painted the sky.

The three of them dismounted and the silent sister handed over the urn to Brienne who muttered a thank you and waited until the holy woman climbed back on her horse and started back down the mountain again. Her large hands shook as she removed the top of the urn, and walked to the edge of the cliffs. Jaime fell in silently beside her. Her blue eyes closed and tears slowly began to fall down her face onto the rocks they were standing on.

“May you find peace amongst the stars.” Her voice trembled as she dumped out a small bit of the ashes. “May you be cradled by the moon.” She tipped the urn again. “And may… May you-...”

She choked on her words and more tears were rushing out in rivers. Jaime put a hand on the urn and she turned to look at him before she silently nodded.

“And may you find warmth in the sun’s fire,” he finished for her, helping the knight tip the rest of the ashes. A light wind started to blow, spreading the remains to every corner of the island he had ruled justly and honorably. When the last speck of ash was away Brienne sank to her knees and Jaime fell beside her, wrapping her arms around her as she sobbed into his shoulder, clutching at his tunic. They stayed like that for a long while, holding one another while tears rushed down both her face until her cries were finally silenced. She sniffled the rest of her tears and leaned against him, looking up at the dark sky crowded with stars.

“You made him proud today,” Jaime told her. He kissed the side of her head. “Just like you’re going to do every day until our children have to come up here and do this and like you did every day prior to this.”

“How is it you always know exactly what to say?” she asked him, her voice still thick with tears but her eyes were dry.

He chuckled softly and nuzzled her neck. “Consider it a gift. Are you ready to go back to Evenfall?”

Brienne nodded and the two stood up from the ground and mounted up before they headed back down the mountain.

That night as the island slept, the castle’s inhabitants full to bursting with food from the funeral feast that had no less than seven different courses of fish native to the islands seas marinated in sweet tangy citrus fruit, and Jaime and Brienne slept in her old chambers, her feelings and emotions too raw to take the Lord’s Chambers just yet, a blue star with a rose colored tail streaked across the Tarth sky, bright and beautiful against the silver crescent moon…

 

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	33. Chapter 33

“Back.”

Brienne advanced on the young spit boy, easily catching his basic parrys with her blunted sword, going not even half her normal speed. She paused and he did as well but he knew better than to drop his blade. 

“Advance,” she told him, and then she was the one moving backwards. She gave him a smack on his calf with the broadside of the blade. “Shorter steps.” Another sharp slap to the other leg a moment later. “Bring your feet closer together.”

Addam corrected himself quickly without so much a word, already knowing what would happen if he questioned her or complained. She had a feeling he was in no mood to restring the bows in the arms room again, the same punishment she had to endure once when she challenged Ser Goodwin after he told his young charge that her blocks were too wide. 

Brienne allowed him to push her back for a moment before he made the mistake of gripping the rusted hilt with both hands and he was rewarded with another slap with the blade on his arm. “One handed. What if you need to carry a shield or you lose an arm?”

He quickly dropped his left hand. “Sorry, M’lady.”

“Don’t apologize, just correct yourself. Back.” 

She pressed on him for a little while longer until she saw Wylla out of the corner of her eye with a wide awake Joanna in her arms and a downcast sullen looking Aileen on her heels, wearing one of the plainer dresses she was forced to buy. The moment the blue eyed baby spotted the tall knight her tiny mouth upturned in a huge grin and Brienne could hear her daughters happy babbles from across the training yard.

Brienne grinned and let the blunted steel drop and her adversary did the same, the twelve year old boy already running out of breath. “We’re done for the day, Addam,” she told him, to the boys great relief. “Your parry’s are getting much better.”

“Thank you, M’lady.” 

“But your footwork still needs a lot of work.”

“Yes, M’lady.”

“Also before you go to bed I want you to find a broom and hold it up for half an hour. You need to get used to only using one hand.”

“Yes, M’lady.”

She dismissed him with a curt nod and he hurried off to his other duties. “You really shouldn’t be filling his head with false hope,” Aileen told her as Brienne took Joanna from Wylla and held her up in front of her face.

“Hello, my little love!” the knight gasped excitedly at the babe. Joanna gave out a scream of joy and Brienne laughed before she cradled the baby in her arms. “What did you mean by that? That I shouldn’t give him false hope?”

“He’s a spit-boy. My Lady,” she added the title quickly, and Brienne could hear the bitterness on her tongue. “His job is in the kitchen. He isn’t ever going to become a knight, the only reason Selwyn even gave him a job is because he overheard his plans to join the Nightswatch and felt sorry for him.”

“Why shouldn’t he be a knight?” Brienne took Joanna’s hand and kissed the back of it, letting out a very un-Brienne-ish giggle as Joanna screamed excitedly again. “Where is it written that a spit-boy can’t rise above his station?”

“Probably the same place it was written that a woman can’t be a knight, M’lady,” said Wylla, feigning innocence.

Brienne smirked at the older woman before she turned towards Aileen and any amusement burned away when she saw the not-so subtle roll of her honey brown eyes. It felt unnatural barking orders in a way she never would have dreamt about talking to another servent with but at the same time… “Aileen, I want all the stairs in the entryway swept and scrubbed, and I want it done before nightfall.” 

“Yes, My Lady,” she muttered. 

“Has she already been changed?” Brienne asked the nursemaid.

“Aye M’lady, not even five minutes ago but she’s hungry I’d wager.”

The tall knight nodded, thanked the former washerwoman turned nursemaid to her daughter, put her blunted sword up in the armory and headed inside the great white marble keep. After Joanna was fed Brienne took the soft pink blanket with blue lions and laid it down on the floor before she placed Joanna face down and sat down on the soft carpet in front of her.

“Ready?” Brienne gasped, excitement thick in her voice and painted heavily on her expression. Joanna held her head up, blue eyes shining with joy and anticipation. She grabbed hold of the edge of the blanket. “One… two… three!” Brienne pulled the blanket forward, grinning as Joanna scream of delight mixed with her laugh that was almost as loud as her mother’s. She backed up and grabbed hold of the blanket again. “One… two… three!” 

The knight laughed as her daughters screams mingled with her laugh, a sound that the Evenstar would have compared to the beauty of the famed singers from the Age of Heroes. Brienne smiled when she heard it, a large toothy wide lipped grin she had been mocked for her whole life but when Joanna saw it; all she did was smile up at her mother and laughed again.

They played the game for a good while until the infant grew bored, and then afterwards she and Brienne sat in the rocking chair besides the bassinet. The two blondes rocked back and forth, back and forth, slow and gentle as Brienne told Joanna the story of Edwyn Evenstar, the Tarth king who married his daughter off to the Stormking which was how their island came into the fold of the Seven Kingdoms and the Stormlands. 

After Brienne laid her down for a nap she changed out of the armor she loaned from the armory, she still had a few more inches to shed before she could fit back into the blue armor Jaime gave her, donned a rose colored velvet top with gilded steel suns down the center of the shirt, dark blue trousers and Oathkeeper in its handsome red scabbard around her waist. The first time she walked around Evenfall without her armor she felt naked. She felt too light, too unprotected, too open. But she was the Evenstar now. She was in her own home amongst her own people, she couldn’t walk around in armor and mail in her own walls. So, day by day, she started to feel less-naked and day by day, she held her head up a little higher when she walked down the halls. 

After she dressed and splashed some water on her face to wash the dirt away Brienne made her way to the main hall where Hugh and Waldon were both waiting for her. 

The room wasn’t near as grand as Winterfell Great Hall had been, at least five of Evenfall’s main halls could have fit comfortably inside it, but what it lacked in size it made up for in beauty. Like the rest of the castle it was made of pristine white marble and the sigil of Tarth had been chiseled and painted flawlessly into the blocks of white rock behind the long blue streaked marble high table that overlooked the rest of the hall.

Heavy marble tables alternating bright blue and dark pink lined the hall on the sides, being far too heavy to move easily for dancing or mingling during feasts. The tables closer to the head table were as near as perfect and the ones towards the back of the hall were still grand but some of the edges were chipped and some of the paint faded. A large skylight and long windows that gave a magnificent view of the sea allowed as much light as they could ever want during the day and at night the torches that littered the wall as well as a line of blue crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling filled the hall with the soft glow of candlelight.

When she entered the hall both her Maester and master of arms, Lord Hugh’s actual position when the Evenstar was on Tarth.

“My Lady,” Hugh and Waldon greeted her with a polite nod that she returned as she climbed the stairs to her seat.

“My Lord. Maester Waldon.” Brienne sat down in the plush white chair at the center of the long table, trying not to remember a time when she would play at her father's feet beneath the table while he conducted affairs. “Any news?”

Waldon handed her a raven scroll. “Robin Arryn messaged us. They’re in need of 30 blocks of marble for repairs to the Eyrie.”

It was a fairly commonplace order for the Lords of the Vale to make after the heavy snows and winds pounded against their castle, one that the Arryns made every winter since the Keep was built. “Of course, I’ll give the order to Ser Ronald tomorrow.” Judging by the look on Waldons face, Brienne has a sinking feeling this time it wasn’t as normal as it had been in decades past. “What?”

“Lord Robin said he’s only willing to pay 450 dragons per block.”

Brienne furrowed her brow. “What? The agreed upon price is 800 dragons per block, it’s always been that price.”

“It has, My Lady.”

“So why is he demanding a lower price now?” Her heart ached with a stab of pity. “Is the Vale suffering in terms of finances? If they are, I can go down to 500 and wave the gold that would come to Evenfall but the miners and transporters need to be paid for their work.”

“It’s nothing to do with expenses, My Lady. Lord Robin has relayed his hope that your new ‘motherly instincts’ come into play while giving him a deal.”

Just like that, the stab of pity was healed. Brienne rolled her eyes to the high marble ceiling above her. “Write back, tell him the price is 800 per block, the same it’s been every year since Aegon landed,” she said sharply. “Then remind him who is it that not only cuts the blocks but who sails across the straits of Tarth with them, who travels on horseback across Westeros with them, who gets the blocks up the bloody mountains, who trained the marble workers who live in the Vale in the first place… I won’t cheat Tarth’s miners out of their hard earned wages because a child believes he can take advantage of me just because I’m now a mother. If Lord Robin has a problem with the agreed upon price he’s more than happy to paint the grey stone of his mountains white and hope no one notices.”

Waldon smiled and Hughs eyes shined with pride. The maester nodded and made a note of it in his papers. “I’ll send the raven back at once, My Lady.  Also Ser Baelor Hightower, Lord Alton Darry, and Lord Sebastion Errol have all asked for a meeting regarding a betrothal.”

“I’m already betrothed to Ser Jaime,” Brienne said. The corners of her lips tugged upwards and she fought against grinning at the words she never thought she would be able to hear herself say.

“The meetings wouldn’t be about you, My Lady.”

It admittedly took a moment to sink in, only for the fact that she couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that not one but three lords of already wanted to discuss betrothals about her infant

“Joanna? She's not even two months old yet!” 

“I know, My Lady but you also have to remember as of now your daughter is the heir to Casterly Rock and the key to the West. If Lord Tyrion never marries again and Ser Jaime outlives him then Casterly Rock goes to Joanna’s husband.”

“That’s if she has no brothers,” Brienne reminded him. “If she has one then he gets the rock, if she has another then he becomes the next Evenstar. It’s a fairly big gamble they’re putting on a babe not even off the breast yet.”

“Desperate men make desperate bets,” said Waldon apologetically. “Ser Baelor has a grandson barely a year old, Lord Alton is sure his second wife will be getting pregnant any day with what he’s sure to be a boy, and Lord Sebastion has a forty three year old son he said is willing to wait until her flowering.”

“No.” Her voice was sharp and hard as stone, utterly unyielding. Brienne remembered when she had to fight back tears when she saw Ser Humfrey for the first time standing in this very hall, aged with liver spots and thin wrinkled skin along with that smell that seemed to accompany all elderly men. If he had been kind and gentle rather than cruel, Brienne might not have found the strength to challenge him and she would have already been a widow by the time she was out of her twenties and her first time would have been with a man old enough to be her grandfather. “I will not marry her to a man who is closer to the grave then the womb when she’s still a child.”

“Understood, My Lady. And while I agree it’s too early to think about betrothals now, in the next few years or so that  _ is _ something you and Ser Jaime are going to have to discuss, especially if Lady Joanna has no brothers.”

Brienne just nodded and promised him she would speak to Jaime about it but the thought of her daughter, who just found the strength to lift her head up and wasn’t even two moons old yet… The business of it all made her shudder. 

“We also received a raven from Lady Stark and Ser Podrick this morning. Both of them confirmed their invitations to the wedding.”

The news brought a smile to her face. The plans for the wedding were slow coming, most of whom Brienne had left up to her steward with only one rule; that roses were not to be in any vicinity in regards to flowers, and Jaime had sent for the same septa in Kings Landing who designed her dress when she was in Kings Landing for the first time, the one that Jaime told her went well with her eyes, to design her wedding gown. That one had been a fairly straightforward process. This time there seemed to be five hundred yards of silk that needed to be pinned and unpinned, draped and cinched, embroidered and stitched… The Septa promised when she was done Brienne would be the most beautiful bride that ever walked into the Tarth sept and the lady knight always rolled her eyes and scoffed, thinking it was just hollow words she told all her customers. But when she saw the dress slowly coming together Brienne actually dared to hope she might, if the Gods were kind, have been able to pass for someone who  _ may _ have been pretty…

“Lord Baratheon is coming as well and I believe the Dawnbringer will be accompanying him.”

The news of the other Stark girl coming dashed any happiness she felt when she found out about Sansa and Pod.

Jaime told Brienne what Arya said; about how she didn’t feel either of the knights were trustworthy and how Arya felt Brienne betrayed Lady Catelyn by falling in love with a Lannister and taking his name. Before she left for Tarth Brienne took Arya aside and asked the young wolf about what Jaime told her, sure that he had just misunderstood or misheard her.

Arya just looked at her and asked if she had two hands. “Of course it's all true, Lady Brienne,” she told her without any hesitation or even any thought about how it might have made her sworn shield feel to hear one of her charges found her untrustworthy and a traitor. “Why would I say something false?”

Brienne swallowed hard and her face burned hot with blush. She bowed her head, avoiding Aryas smug grey eyes, muttered ‘My Lady’ and hurried away, leaving the young girl to her waterdancing.  

When Sansa asked her on the dock if she said goodbye to Arya yet Brienne just gave the tall girl an uncomfortable smile and an, “of course, My Lady. We were very sad to see one another go.”

“If you would, write back and tell our liege lord how honored Ser Jaime and I am that the Warden of the East would make an appearance along with... any guests he might bring.” Waldon promised he would and when he told her there was no more ravens she turned her attention to her master of arms and asked him for any news.

“Men spotted a Lysine ship off the coast of Morne.”

“A trader or pirates?”

“They’re unsure, My Lady,” Hugh admitted.

Brienne pursed her plump lips for a moment. “I want fifty men to take  _ Moon Crest  _ and a hundred to take  _ Star Fall  _ and sail to Morne. If they’re traders tell them we’re giving them an escort, if they’re pirates then hopefully them knowing they’re outnumbered will make them turn tail. But I want  _ The Mothers Sapphire  _ and  _ Luna _ armed and ready for me and Ser Jaime to command with two hundred soldiers for each standing by if there’s more pirates trailing behind that one.”

“Of course, My Lady.”

“Also I want a quarter of our fleet on the Morne side of the island for a few weeks. I don’t know if Daenerys’ forces will stay in Essos or not but if they decided to seek revenge we’re the first target.” A beat, and then, “but talk the logistics over with Ser Jaime before you speak to anyone or make any arrangements. He’s to be in charge of this expedition.”

She could tell Hugh was biting back a groan at her command. “My Lady,” he said slowly, trying to give himself a few moments to come up with something that wouldn’t offend. “Ser Jaime is-.”

“A seasoned battle captain and commander, even more experienced than me,” Brienne admitted without shame or hesitation. “I will rule Tarth, he will command our military forces. I would put his input above my own in terms of military matters. When he gets back from the mines, I want you and him to sit down and discuss this.” She bit back a ‘please’, remembering she wasn’t just her father’s daughter anymore, she was expected to rule and command. But her face did soften some when she saw his checks burn hit with anger that he wouldn’t release onto her. “Ser Jaime is a good man,” she promised. “A good and honorable man.”

“He killed the king he was sworn to protect,” Hugh muttered as if that solved everything.

She wanted to scream the truth from the rooftops but instead she just said that, “Ser Jaime had his reasons. He’s a good man, Lord Hugh, I swear it to the Mother. Do you think my father would have betrothed us if he had been cruel or weak or honor-less?”

“No, My Lady,” he admitted. 

“By all rights he should be the one sitting here discussing these matters with you,” she reminded him. “But Ser Jaime granted me the right to take on the title of Evenstar and all the responsibilities that go with it because he trusted me, he knew I would rule better than him, just like I know he’ll lead our armies with more experience. He’s the son of Tywin Lannister, one of the best battle commanders who ever lived, he came THIS close to ending the war of the five kings when his sword got within half an inch of Robb Starks throat. Not to mention he managed to take back Riverrun without bloodshed, he out maneuvered the unsullied and ended one of his Houses enemies in one fell-swoop, he led the defense of the castle walls during the Long Night… He’s an asset, Lord Hugh. I promise.”

The weathered Master of Arms sighed, running a gloved hand through his long white hair. “I’ll accept Ser Jaime’s help about the plan’s for the blockade.”

She gave him a smile and a polite nod. “Thank you, Lord Hugh.”

Her Master of Arms kept his promise, so much so that it was nearing midnight by the time Jaime came to bed looking utterly exhausted. He didn’t say a word, just collapsed facedown on the bed beside Brienne who looked down at her future husband. “You seem to have had a good day…”

“I can’t go back there,” he muttered into his pillow. “I can’t.”

“Every Lord of Tarth has worked a year in the mines,” she reminded him, the same thing she told him everytime he complained. “I did it when I was sixteen, my father did when he was eighteen, My grandfather was fourteen…”

“I’m starting a new tradition.” She has to bite back a laugh as she watched him lift his arm and then thump it back down, apparently too exhausted to even manage that. “They work three weeks in the mines, call it quits and spend the rest of that year in bed trying to recover.”

“Don’t tell me Jaime Lannister is afraid of a little manual labor.”

He propped himself up on his elbows. “I’m not afraid, I’m close to middle aged. There’s a difference.” 

Brienne chuckled before she grabbed hold of his jacket and pulled it off, rolling her eyes when he groaned in relief and pain as she did. “⅓ of every marble sale comes to Evenfall. It’s our main trade, our main export, it’s why Hayden had to run back to Daenerys and ask for help when they were rebelling, because we needs those workers.” She unlaced his shirt and pulled it off him, taking a moment to admire his muscles. “It wouldn’t be fair to ask them to work in the mines probably for their entire lives when the ones who benefit the most can’t be bothered to spend a year cutting and hauling rock.”

Brienne settled behind him and began to knead the knots from his muscles. “Well it makes me appreciate this castle at least,” he groaned as she massaged a particularly tight kink out of his shoulder. “How was Joanna today? I missed her.”

“She was fine. I think she missed you too.”

“I got back in time to help put her to bed but-.” He moaned as she caressed the back of his neck and then continued slowly down the center of his spine. “Lord Hugh said he needed to talk to me about a blockade.”

“How’d that go?”

“Well after convincing him I wasn’t going to set fire to the fleet halfway out to sea and he was safe telling me his ideas we actually had a productive conversation. We’re going to- Mmm keep doing that,” Jaime groaned as she rubbed his back with a fair bit of force in her her long fingers. He rolled his shoulders and she noticed he was beginning to roll his hips as well.

A wickedly sinful grin rose to her plump lips. Brienne kissed that particular spot behind his ear and trailed her lips down his muscled neck and pressed them against his shoulders.

“What were you saying?” she purred wrapping her arms around him, fingering the crevasse in his stomach and tracing his abs. “Something about a naval blockade?”

“Fuck the blockade,” Jaime moaned, rubbing the top of thigh with his hand. “It’s been six weeks right?”

She nibbled on his ear as her fingers just barely stroked what was growing expediently harder between his legs. Brienne pulled lightly on the ties on his trousers and slid her hand inside. “Six weeks exactly.”

“Good,” Jaime breathed before twisting around and capturing her lips in a heated kiss.

Brienne let out a small squeal of surprise before she melted into the kiss, her hand continuing to stroke him as he pushed her back onto the bed and climbed on top of her. His lips were hungry and eager and her tongue danced with his, mirroring the strokes of her hand down below. His hand slipped up her shirt  and tenderly caressed the soft swell of her small breast before his fingers were tugging and pinching her nipple.

Brienne let out a soft hiss of pain and she repaid the gesture by letting her nails drag along his hard flesh. Jaime jerked back and when he looked down at her, green eyes almost black with lust and what she would have described as predatory and bloodthirsty and a river of slick sweetness flooded between her legs.

“It’s gonna be that kind of night, is it Wench?” he growled.

She replied with another kiss, sucking on his bottom lip for a moment before she bit down and smirking when he pulled back from her. 

“Does that answer your question, Ser Jaime?” Brienne asked, feigning innocence and gazing at him through long blonde eyelashes.

He wasted no time in kissing her again, jerking her hips into her hand. His hand grabbed at the laces of her shirt, all of the ties conveniently already loosened, and tore through them as well as he might have if he had two hands to ravish her with.

“Wait,” Brienne breathed into his mouth as he went to yank the shirt open, momentarily halting her own strokes. “Jaime, wait...” He stalled in his movements and the rapacious look in his eyes faded some. Her pale skin went red with blush and she lowered her eyes. “I-... I just- you- you should know I haven’t… I’ve been doing well with my training and eating right but I- I haven’t-... things are still a little… soft,” she finally decided on. “I- I mean not- not horrible but I- it doesn’t look like what it- What it did…”

Jaime just raised a golden brow at her and opened up her shirt. Brienne bit her lip as she gazed up at him, expecting revulsion or disappointment in her still flabby stomach littered with stretch marks but rather then loathing or disgust like she thought he looked at her with the same want and desire as he did in Winterfell before she grew large with his child.

Without wasting another moment on words Jaime kissed the top of her scar and moved his lips down the long crevice in her face. He kissed her jaw, her lips, her long pale neck, the four marks that curved up around her neck and then lower and lower, placing soft kisses on her admittedly flabby stomach, paying homage to each individual stretch mark with his lips, tracing the road map of lines with his tongue that he dragged down to the inch above where her sleep britches stopped. 

“Jaime!” Brienne whimpered as he tugged at the laces holding them up with his teeth, a pleasant burning erupting in her belly as his fingers touches her. She rolled her lip as he yanked them down over her thighs and even before she could blink he had buried his face in between her legs. She cried out, arching her back off the bed as his tongue darted out and licked at her sweetness and he inhaled her scent deeply and growling at the smell of her want and desire for him.

He kept his hand wrapped around her thigh, letting her know where his hand was at all times, letting her know he wasn’t going to push his fingers inside of her.

But any thoughts of Raeko were firmly away and all of her focus was on her lions soft lips sucking on her cunt, his warm tongue he kept thrusting inside her and the rough scratch of his beard between her legs.

“Jaime!” she cried, fisting his hair and yanking him closer to her, thrusting her hips into his mouth. He growled as his mouth savigly devoured her clit, and the sound and vibrations made Brienne scream to the Seven above as her slickness flooded his mouth and a wave of pleasure she had no idea could even exist much less belong to someone like her overwhelmed her to the point of no return.

Before the stars he made her see could disappear, Jaime pounced on top of her as three hands worked feverishly to get his trousers off. When he was finally free she grabbed hold of his head and slammed his lips against hers, crying out as he pushed into her while she licked her sweetness from his lips. 

He wrapped his right arm around her and buried his remaining hand in her short hair, tugging as he moved in and out, in and out. Her long legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him in closer to feel him more fully, enjoying the hiss of pain when she raked her nails down his back and dug them into the globes of his ass. 

Jaime was grunting in her ear as he moved. “I love you,” he gasped, slowing his thrusts down so he could go deeper, harder, deeper inside her. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

“Jaime!” she whimpered, throwing her head back then crying out when his lips assaulted her neck, marking her as his and no one else’s. “Jaime! Fuck!”

When he was close, he moved his fingers between them and rubbed at her bundle of nerves, growling possessively when she screamed out his name again and for the second time that night she saw stars.

Jaime followed a moment later, roaring her name as he slammed into her while his seed flooded her. When he was finally done he collapsed on top of her, softening inside her, the two of them trembling in eachothers arms. He kissed her, soft and sweet and lazy, running his hand through her damp hair and only breaking away when they needed air.

“That was…” Brienne said and Jaime laughed softly, nodding and giving her another soft kiss.

“Agree,” he purred, nuzzling her neck. He finally rolled off her and Brienne felt him inside her still, felt his seed inside her and she smiled sheepishly, burying her face in her pillow while he pulled the furs over top of them.

“What?” he asked, her grin apparently infections because he was smiling too.

“Nothing. It’s just…” She gnawed at her bottom lip and cupped his face. “I want another baby.”

He laughed, openly and loudly. “We have one right down the hall. As a matter of fact, it's almost time for her midnight feeding.”

“No I know, I just… It’s stupid, but this time I want it like I always pictured it when I was a girl,” she admitted. “Not fearing for our lives, not having to hide my pregnancy, my husband by my side the whole time... I want to give birth in a birthing bed, not a bathhouse and I don’t want  to have to give up my baby up two minutes after I give birth to protect them. I don’t want to ask a kings permission to let him have his father’s name.”

Jaime stroked her face, the side with the scar on it. “I want that too,” he told her softly. “It’s what I’ve wanted since Cersei told me she was pregnant with Joffrey, it’s what I wanted for you the day you told me you were carrying Joanna.”

She nuzzled closer to him and they wrapped their arms around one another. “Can you imagine it?” she asked with a tired lazy smile, resting her head on his chest. “Something in our lives that is actually calm and relaxing and planned?”

“I don’t know, Brienne, something going right for once sounds like something a singer would make up.”

A soft laugh escaped her lips, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around her. She inhaled his scent, sweat and leather and steel and ‘Jaime’ with the smell of sex heavy in the air and a tired smile made its way to her face, enjoying the few minutes or so of peace she would have before a nursemaid brought her Joanna so she could nurse her. 

“I love you, Ser,” she muttered sleepily, blue eyes already closing.

“I love you too, My Lady,” Jaime told her, but she was already half asleep with a thought that made her smile grow even bigger.

Aileen was on the schedule to change their bedding in the Lords Chambers tomorrow.


	34. I Am Hers and He is Mine

“Are you nervous?”

Jaime raised a brow at his younger brother as the barber slicked his graying golden hair back with orange oil. “Why on earth would I be nervous?”

“Well for one you’re getting married in less than an hour,” Tyrion replied as he looked over his goblet of water sweetened with lemons and sugar at the groombride.

Jaime sat in the chair silent for a moment. He heard from other men they had been nervous wrecks before their bride walked down the aisle, or else they were happy while a twinge of regret would prick at them for the fact that, if they were honorable men, there would only be one woman they would be with for the rest of their lives. 

But the green eyed lion felt none of that. He felt nothing but his whole heart bursting with bliss and elation and anticipation to start this part of his life with the woman he loved, a good kind honorable knight who already gifted him a beautiful cub and hopefully if the Mother was kind would let her bare several more.

“I love her, I want to be with her, we share a child together, we’ve been living together as man and women for how many months now…? If anything the wedding will be a relief that we can actually be together without stares when I leave our chambers in the morning.”

Tyrion tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Fair point.” 

The older Lannister looked over the Master of Coin and he couldn’t help the small smile that rose to his lips. His blonde curls were well managed, his beard was neatly trimmed and the high collared crimson leather jerkin with gold trim he wore made him look every bit the Master of Coin and Lord of the Rock.

“You look really good, Tyrion,” Jaime assured him once more, his smile growing as the barber began trimming his beard. “You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

Four months prior Jaime and Brienne made their way back to the Crownlands to swear fealty to the new king. In all honesty Jaime didn’t particularly want to go but it would let him see Tyrion again while Brienne relished the chance to visit with Sansa and Podrick.

If his younger brother was a mess when they left, the time away made turned Tyrion into a shell of his former proud self. A shell that absolutely terrified Jaime. He was drinking heavier than ever, his hair was a mess of matted curls, his beard wild and overgrown, clothes wrinkled and stained while dark circles surrounded pale green eyes, their father's eyes. Even during a formal occasion such as a coronation he looked like he had been dragged in by fishermen after the battle of the Blackwater.

After the pomp and circumstance was over, Tyrion stumbled over to the tall knightly couple and somehow managed to ask if they were planning on any more children.

“We are,” Brienne answered, sharing a soft knowing smile with Jaime. “Three more hopefully.”

“Mmm… you know I- I saw Joanna earlier… she really is a delight, Brienne. She’s going to grow up to look exactly like our dear departed Cersei,” Tyrion slurred to the blonde woman. He smirked as he drowned the last of the cup, the latest in a so far five cup binge. “Luckily for whatever sons you two happen to have.”

He fell to the polished floor when Jaime’s hand cracked him across the mouth. If that didn’t sober him up, Oathkeeper at his throat and a sharp warning from Brienne that if he EVER spoke that way about Joanna or any of her children again she would kill him, certainly did. After she had stormed off amongst the mutters and whispers over what had just transpired between not only her and her future Good-Brother but the new kings Master of Coin, Jaime grabbed Tyrion by the back of the neck and led him out of the throne room.

“You need to stop.” His words were as sharp as the blue steel he wore on his hip once they were in a small secluded broom closet. “I mean it, Tyrion. I have half a mind to cut you out completely much less uninvite you to the wedding, if Brienne even lets you come now.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” he managed, spitting out a glob of wine soaked blood onto the floor. “I’m the only family you have left.”

“Brienne is my family. Joanna is my family.” Jaime kneeled down so he was eye to eye with him and grabbed his face so they were forced to look at one another. There was no amusement in voice, no kindness in his eyes, just a harsh truth his brother needed to hear. “I’ll choose the two of them over anyone else living. Including you, Tyrion.  _ Especially  _ when you’re just living up to the expectations of being the lecherous pathetic drunken imp that his sister and father painted you to be.”

Jaime could see Tyrion’s face twitch and watched as his lips pursed. He hated that nickname, no matter how many times he used it on himself. “I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

“We have. Obviously it hasn’t sunk in. You’re a disgrace to our family and our House, Tyrion. You’re exactly what everyone thinks you are, what Father and Cersei thought you were all these years.” 

The words hurt to say, almost as much as he knew it had to hurt Tyrion to hear them but Jaime had to do it. He saw his brother trying to hold back the emotions and a flood of tears. His words had finally wounded the dwarf.

Tyrion’s voice shook with drunken tears. “You don’t understand-.”

“What? I don’t understand what?” Jaimes voice was rising in anger with every syllable. “I don’t understand what it’s like to kill your king and to live with that guilt even though you tell yourself over and over it was for a good cause? To find out the person you thought you loved doesn’t love you in return? To believe in a cause that turned out to be a farce? Which of those things don’t I understand?” 

“Father and Cersei-.”

“Are dead. Fuck whatever they said about you, about both of us.” 

For a moment, Tyrion looked young again. They were back on Casterly Rock and the small lion was a small boy, silently pleading for Jaime to step in and defend him on the day’s that Tywin and Cersei were being particularly cruel. Eyes that mirrored the man who despised him wet with tears that he learned at an early age not to let fall because lions weren’t allowed to cry, and chest heaving. 

Jaime kept his tone as sharp as he dared, on the verge of tears spilling onto his own tunic as well. “My first three children were raised around drunks. I will not have it with mine and Briennes, Tyrion, do you hear me? All of Brienne's siblings are dead, Cersei’s gone, all four of our parents are gone… You’re Joanna’s only family outside of me and her mother. You killed your queen because you thought she was responsible for your nieces death. For both of your sakes; don't make me forbid you from seeing her just because you can’t face the world without a bottle of wine. Don’t drink yourself to death just because of what lies another drunk and our father told you.”

It had taken a fair bit of convincing on Jaime’s end, more than he thought it would have, for Brienne to forgive his brother but she eventually accepted the apology with the same parameters Jaime set out.

He wasn’t allowed to drink anymore. Not around them, not around Joanna… not if he wanted to see his only remaining family again at least.

When Tyrion showed up looking every bit the Lannister Lord Jaime knew his brother could be, he was beyond grateful to see that he took the threat and promises to cut him out seriously. So much so that he was hard pressed to imagine even the mighty Tywin wouldn’t have been impressed with how his youngest presented himself, especially since he came bearing two live lions, one golden male and a pure white lioness, as a wedding present.

Brienne had been less than thrilled with the gifts however.

“What in the Seven Hell’s are we going to do with those?” she asked, keeping a respectable distance between her and the beasts.

“Dare people to stick their hand in the cages,” Jaime and Tyrion replied at the same time as if the answer was obvious.

Which was all in good fun seeing as most of the castle and guests would rather take the hit against their pride as opposed to risk losing an extremity. But then Jaime’s future bride caught Tyrion challenging Podrick to step an inch or so closer to the cage with his arm stretched all the way out. His fingers just passed the iron bars when Brienne grabbed her former squire and threw him backwards as the golden lion swiped his paw at the cage, his nails scraping the metal.

She yelled and chastised him so fiercely the two of them forgot Podrick was a knight on equal footing as her, and when she ordered him to take a whetstone to the swords in the armory he obeyed with a nervously stammered, ‘yes, My Lady,’ and hurried off.

Five hundred years later the singers of Tarth would tell the legend of a Westlander from the Age of Heroes who brought over lions as an offering to make the first Princess of Tarth fall in love with him. She rejected the gift and the Westlander was so overcome with grief that he set the lions loose so they and their descendants could run and be apart of the island forever, even if he could not be, which was how a small pride of lions came to roam the small abandoned isle of Morne.

The real story about how the Evenstar told her future husband and soon to be good-brother that they were too irresponsible to keep lions in the castle after nearly crippling her former squire and ordered them to set the cats free in the wild made for a much less thrilling tale.

After the barber managed his beard to where it was an acceptable level of scruff and coarse hair, there was a knock on the door and a small boy hurried in.

“Are you ready yet, Ser?” Addam, the former spit boy turned squire that Brienne asked Jaime to take on, asked. 

“Since the second I asked her,” Jaime said with a smile as the barber swept away the hair from his shoulders with a small horsehair brush. The two men and the squire made their way back across the hall to his room.

“We had enough bad luck to last us a lifetime, we don’t need to chance it anymore,” Brienne told Jaime when he scoffed at the superstition that a groom wasn’t supposed to see his bride the night before the wedding. But nevertheless he agreed to spend the night at an inn near the sept.

Jaime dressed himself in satin midnight black trousers, well fitted and creased to the point the straight line running down the leg was almost sharp. His high collared doublet was exquisite supple leather, as soft as Jaime had ever felt before, alternating between bright yellow and brownish-colored gold honeycombs. He wore a golden ring with a lion carved from a flawless ruby on one finger and on another a rose colored steel circle with a large blue marble oval surrounded by small dots of sapphires as its face.

Jaime offered to write to the Casterly Rock goldsmiths for a new golden hand, but Brienne begged him not too.

“It caused you pain,” she reminded him, and Jaime remembered the relief he always felt whenever he would take it off at night and the way the cursed hand would chaif and pinch and rub his skin red and raw. “Wear a slip or or nothing at all, whatever makes you comfortable,” she pleaded. “Just don’t hurt yourself with another prosthetic just because you think you have to.” So Jaime made himself a slip of soft gold colored leather criss-crossed with crimson lines that fit comfortably over the scarred stump.

Jaime looked at himself in the looking glass and a smile flitted to his lips. He looked good, he looked Lordly, he looked like someone worthy of a true knight.

There was another knock on the door a moment later Wylla walked in wearing the finest dress a nursemaid could afford and holding Joanna in her arms. The little lioness was dressed in a long sleeveless gown with a pale gold satin bodice and a bouffant style bottom with a thick petticoat underneath. Simple looking suns and lions were stitched in dark gold and upwards facing crescent moons were embroidered on the bottom of the skirt that extended an inch or so past the satin. A large pale yellow silk ribbon was tied around her plump little waist.

Pale gold almost white stockings adorned her admittedly long legs and she wore bright gold shoes with a hint of a heel on her tiny feet. Her only jewelry were two small ruby earrings, barely bigger than her thumbnail.

“Hello, my little cub! You wanna come see Papa?” Jaime purred, grinning as Joanna reached out for him in a way Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen never did. He took her in his arms and smoothed down her soft pale blonde hair, grinning as she looked up at him with deep blue sapphire eyes and smiled at him. He kissed the top of her head “Isn't she supposed to be wearing a hat?” he asked the nursemaid. 

“You try keeping a hat on a six month old, M’lord,” Wylla answered wearily as if just hearing the name of the accessory was enough to drive her to madness. “Unless we paste it on, it’s coming off in about thirty seconds and being thrown across the room the next.”

Jaime chuckled and kissed her cheek again. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He turned his attention back to his daughter. “You look beautiful, my little cub. Even without the hat.” His smile grew wider at the sound of his daughters giggle before he handed her back to the nursemaid.

Wylla sat Joanna on her large hip and looked over Jaime for a moment, scrutinizing him, before her plump lips turned upwards into a smile. “You look good, M’lord.”

“Thank you, Wylla.”

A nod of encouragement before she told Addam it was almost time for them to go. They left soon after, leaving the two Lannister brothers alone. Jaime smoothed out the already wrinkle free doublet, his heart started to pound against his ribs not from nerves but from anticipation.

“Are you ready?” Tyrion asked him after a spell. Jaime took a deep breath, gave himself one more once over in the mirror before he nodded and walked out of the room beside his brother.

Heavy strips of rose and azure colored silk draped from the outermost pews of the sept, while red and golden marigolds were strung elegantly around the marble house of worship. Once again it was full to the brink and even overflowed into the streets, many of those who had been there for Selwyns funeral were in attendance but this time they were dressed in livelier colors, there wasn’t an air of heaviness and grief but light hearted joy and laughter filled the air, none so more than the well dressed lion who stood at the end of the blue velvet aisle. The sun had dipped down just enough that a bright streak of sunlight would be shining down directly where he and his bride would be standing, bathing them in the glow of a late afternoon. The grey haired Septon stood behind a glorious marble altar, solid white with gold trim and a golden seven pointed star carved on the front of it. 

Jaime wiped his hands on trousers as he waited, glancing around at those who came. Gendry and Arya were there, seated in the place of honor considering the former blacksmith was now Tarth’s liege lord (the fact that Jaime now had to bow to one of Robert's bastards left a rotten taste in his mouth but Brienne assured him that he was a good lad. He wore a handsome if not plain dark yellow jerkin with that bloody black stag on the front with black breeches, and Arya donned a simple brown leather jerkin with a half cape made of grey fur, a steel direwolf broach, plain black trousers, and she had her skinny little needle and the famed valyrian steel dagger in her plain brown sword belt on full display.

Jaime tried not to take it as a threat.

Beside the new Stormlord sat Tyrion and next to his brother was Wylla with a content babbling Joanna on her lap. Then besides Arya, Sansa looked a true winter beauty in a floor length grey fur gown. Her long sleeves were mud-red Tully fish scales and her smooth red hair was pulled back into a neat bun while that metal chain necklace she always wore was around her long pale neck. Even Jaime had to admit the Lady of the North was the most beautiful woman in the sept.

Until the congregation stood and the doors opened.

Then, when he saw Brienne step in out of the glare of the sun, on the arm of her former squire, Jaime knew there was not a woman alive who could have compared to the beauty of his bride.

A long loose-fitting shockingly white silk dress, with golden lions holding the billowing sleeves embroidered with small looping blue and gold flowers on its edges together fell to the floor made her look as alluring and ravishing as any statue of the Maid that Jaime had ever seen.

Overtop the gown was a long cape of soft crimson silk that swept the floor and draped across her shoulders with the same gold and blue accents that was on the dress. The cape was cinched together in the middle by a golden decoration of a man in a lion headdress and held in place by two golden lions broaches with cloudy blue sapphires set in its jaws that rested atop her shoulders.

She wore earrings made up of several gold suns and her lips were stained the same brilliant blood red as her cape and on her feet were two crimson slippers with the same ivory colored straps as the dress. Her hair was tightly curled and pushed back from one side of her face. Someone did their best to cover the long scar but if you looked close enough you could see where the skin was raised beneath the painted skin.

Jaime had never seen such a vision. Daenerys, Sansa, Margaery Tyrell, even his twin... all of the great beauties of Westeros and Essos alike paled in comparison to the former maid of Tarth.

As Brienne and Podrick, who was dressed handsomely in a white and purple checkered silk shirt, made their way down the aisle, her blue eyes found his and she smiled sheepishly at what was sure to be a look of absolute awe on his face, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks. He was gaping slack jawed, he knew he was, but he couldn’t help himself. Brienne was stunning, and she was all his. From this day, until his last.

Her long legs made short work of the aisle but for Jaime, every step was a lifetime. He wanted her by his side now, he wanted her to be his wife, he wanted to pledge his love to this woman in front of the Gods and the Stark sisters and Roberts bastard and every other man and woman in this sept. He wanted to scream it from the highest mountain on the island that Brienne was his and he was hers. 

When she and Podrick finally,  _ finally _ , reached the alter she turned to the younger man and the two of them embraced. Jaime could already see tears start to form in her eyes and he heard the faint whisper of ‘thank you, Podrick’ and ‘of course, My Lady’ before he took his spot besides Sansa, taking the smiling wolf’s hand in his.

 Brienne turned to Jaime and her sheepish smile grew as Jaime stared at her, mouth agape and eyes wide.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed and her blush deepened. She looked down at the floor but Jaime put a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face so he was staring into her eyes. He never wanted to look away from her ever again. Jaime offered her his arm which she gladly took before they took the last few steps so they were standing in front of the Septon, never looking away from her for a moment.

“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection," the priest announced. Jaime unfolded the heavy crimson cloak with the lion sigil draped across his arm and cloaked it around her broad shoulders. The two knights stood side by side as she lifted her right hand and he placed his left on top of hers, gazing at her all the while. Brienne's eyes flickered over to him and she bit her lip to keep her smile from widening as joy danced in her astonishing colored eyes. 

_ She’s happy _ , he thought, almost stunned at the realization.  _ She’s truly genuinely happy she’s marrying me, she  _ **_wants_ ** _ to be my wife, she  _ **_wants_ ** _ to be a Lannister… she loves me as much as I love her. _

Jaime had to fight back the tears in his eyes as she Septon bound a long white silken ribbon around their hands and made the proclamation. “Let it be known that Brienne of House Tarth and Jaime of House Lannister, are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." 

At that lart the two of them met eyes again and they both had to choke back a laugh. They had enough of people tearing them asunder to last three lifetimes. "In the sight of the Seven,” the Septon continued as he took off the ribbon. “I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon each other and say the words.”

They turned to face one another, still grasping each other’s hands. Her words were soft and meek and mild, meant for him and him alone whereas Jaime’s filled the hall, the island, the Stormlands… everyone in Westeros would know of his love for his knight.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger." 

"I am hers-.”

“I am his-.”

“-and she is mine.”

“-and he is mine.”

 “From this day, until the end of my days," 

Jaime rested his hand below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek her maimed cheek. “With this kiss,” he told her, a soft gentle whisper. “I pledge my love.”

He pressed his lips against hers, and the kiss was slow and soft, comforting and almost innocent. The two of them wrapped their arms around one another as the applause erupted but he heard none of it. The world fell away and nothing existed but Brienne. Her long fingers as callous as any knights but as gentle as any maids pulled him closer until all space disappeared between them and they could feel the beating of each other’s hearts against their chests. 

When they broke apart she rested her forehead against his, clutching his golden doublet like she might float away and he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Like Jaime was her anchor.

“I love you,” Brienne whispered, her voice breathy and wet with tears.

“I love you,” Jaime replied, burying his hand in her short straw colored hair before he kissed her again. 

Finally they pulled apart for a second time and turned to face the crowd. Sansa was weeping into a teary eyed Podricks shoulder but was still managing to clap wildly.  Arya was rolling her eyes at her sister but Jaime swore he saw a hint of a smile on her lips and, he noticed, had taken the arm of the Stormlord standing beside her. Brienne was beaming just as brightly as she had when he knighted her and the smile was as infectious as any smile he had seen on any other maid.

She took hold of his hand and led him not down the aisle but over to Wylla who handed the happily babbling baby over to her. Jaime kissed the top of Joanna’s head as Brienne held her tight to her chest, kissing her tiny cheek and nuzzling her cubs cheek before she handed her back to Wylla with a promise to see the little girl soon, before Jaime and the newly made lioness Brienne Lannister made their way down the aisle, finally, together.

Afterwards it seemed as if the whole of Tarth was inside Evenfalls halls, drinking, laughing and chattering. A group of musicians began playing when Brienne and Jaime walked into the hall and with a flash of a smile he bowed lowly and offered his hand to her.

“Might I have this dance, My Lady?” 

The way her eyes lit up at that moment might have given him more joy then if he lived a hundred more years, all of them nearly perfect. She slipped her hand into his and he wrapped his handless arm around her, pulling her close as the music played.

Selwyn had not nearly been boasting, he was right. Brienne moved with such grace and elegance that it would have put any other highborn lady to shame (or shocked them judging by the look of utter surprise on Sansa’s face as she watched her sworn shield that she rarely saw out of her armor float across the dance floor as beautifully as, well, her.) 

The slow music twirled them around and around the grand marble hall. As they danced and swayed in one another’s arms he gazed into her stunning blue eyes, eyes that loved and adored the man leading her in her first dance as a Lannister, a soft smile gracing her painted lips all the while.

_ I’ll dance with her every day _ , he swore to himself as the music began to swell. He pulled her in closer, their feet gliding as effortlessly as breathing.  _ I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her this happy, I swear it. _

As the crescendo finished and the song died down, she kissed him, draping her arms around his shoulders as he put his hand and stump on her waist, not letting go of the other until the second song had started up again.

After a few more songs came the feast. A delicious warm fish stew with leeks, carrots, barley, and turnips white and yellow, along with clams and chunks of cod, swimming in a stock of heavy cream and butter and crusty trenchers of bread to serve it in, and then a salads of sweetgrass and apples, nuts, and raisins. Then came tiny fish crusted in salt and wrapped in seaweed and fried crisp then spider crabs boiled then basted with butter and garlic. 

The two of them were served the choice serving of roast baby mountain goat stuffed with mushrooms and onions and dripping in brown gravy, a Westerland delicacy, and then flaky delectable sunfish baked and covered with herbs, the same dish Jaime shared with Selwyn the night he was betrothed to the smiling laughing woman sitting beside him.  The sweets came finally, lemon cakes in the shape of roaring lions, apple tarts in the shape of crescent moons and rich honeyed biscuits baked into a sun.

All throughout the corses the musicians played, jugglers juggled and the crowds danced but Jaime barely heard or saw any of it. He only had eyes for Brienne, laughing and talking to her with the only breaks in conversation to chew and swallow. Afterwards they danced again and then he reluctantly left her to talk to Sansa and Pod so he might check in on his brother, shockingly finding him still sober, having sipped on citrus juice with a hit of Dornish snake venom that gave it a firey kick rather than the sweet wine the rest of the party all seemed to be drinking.

“Do you know I realized something during the ceremony, ” Tyrion said as Jaime sat down beside him, take a forkful of the goat off his brothers plate. “This might be the first Lannister wedding in years that won’t end with someone’s death or utter unhappiness.”

Jaime chuckled, taking a sip of his brother’s spicy drink.  “You never know, the crabs might have been poisoned.” 

“If they are let me just say now I name Bronn as my champion and I want to at least be able to drink the night before my execution,” said Tyrion as Brienne's big laugh reached them from across the hall and Jaime smiled at the sound of it.

His brother was making another quip but he barely heard him. He barely heard anyone, barely saw anyone but the tall knight standing across the way.

Jaime was married. He was married to the woman he loved, his brother was finally sober, and there wasn’t a man or God alive who could object to their union. Them being together wouldn’t start a war, he didn’t have to convince himself that it wasn’t wrong when he was inside her, Brienne would never hurt him, she would never ask him to hurt someone for her, he would never call her hateful, he would never dishonor her, their children would bare his name, he would be named their father, they could openly love one another without shame or fear... 

“Are you okay?”

Jaime blinked and it was then he noticed that tears were rolling down his face. He quickly wiped his tears away with the back of his hand and cleared his throat. He took a shaky breath and nodded. “Yeah. Yes, sorry, I just-...” A tearful wet laugh left him. “Tyrion, I’m… I’m happy.” It was a sudden stab of a realization that made him want to weep. “For the first time in my life, I’m truly,  _ truly _ happy… All those times I thought I was happy with Cersei, I just… How could I have ever thought that was happiness? How could I have wasted half my life without being with Brienne?”

Tyrion took another sip of the snake juice. “Well for one thing unless you were forced to go on a long walking holiday together you wouldn't have given her so much as a second look unless it was to mock her.”

Jaime shook his head. “No. No, I would have mocked her at first but she would have fascinated me, I would have gotten to know her, we would have fallen in love…”

He had to believe that, because the thought of a lifetime, even an imagined one, without her… he could hardly bare it.  Jaime looked across the hall and found Brienne smiling and laughing and looking just as marvelously happy as he was. All of a sudden he couldn’t explain to himself why he was sitting here in a crowded room with music and the rich smell of food in the air when he could be with  _ her.  _ He could be wrapped in her arms while they made love, he could be hearing only her beautiful deep voice, he could be inhaling that luxurious scent that was all ‘Brienne’ and all his instead.

Jaime stood up from the chair and gave a polite nod to his brother before he made his way back across the hall, taking her by the hand and smiling a sharp but polite smile at Sansa and Pod. “If you’ll excuse us a moment?”

Sansa told him of course and Jaime pulled his bride away from the crowds into a small room just outside the hall.

“Is everything alright?” Brienne started to ask but before she could finish the sentence Jaime was kissing her again. She melted into the kiss, softly moaning into his mouth as he pressed up against her.

“I don’t want to share you anymore,” he told her with a pout, earning a soft laugh. He buried his hand in her soft curls and his face into her long neck, inhaling greedily. “I don’t. I’ve wasted too much of my life without being your lord husband, I don’t want to waste another minute.” 

Brienne bit her lip as she glanced towards the crowded hall and then back at Jaime. “I really,  _ really,  _ don’t want to go through with the bedding.”

“What a coincidence, neither did I.” He offered her his hand again with a smug almost predatory grin that made Brienne gnaw on her lower lip and look at him through half lidded eyes. “Might I have this  _ dance _ , My Lady?”

Brienne’s sheepish smile was back as she slipped her hand into his and a moment later both were hurrying down the corridors, laughing and grinning all the while. 

They reached their chambers in record time, and slipped inside and shut the door behind them, cutting off the at the loud boos and jeers that followed them from the feast over the lack of a proper bedding…


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Musical recommendation for this chapter- ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ by Hailey Reinhart, & ‘You Are The Reason’ by Calum Scott

Jaime grinned as Brienne let out that loud laugh of hers as they shut the door behind them. He grabbed her around the waist and twirled her around until her back was against the wall, wasting no time in kissing her while his hand and stump took their proper place around her hips.

The soft mewling moan she made as his knight melted into him made Jaime weak in the knees and he pressed himself up against her. When their lips reluctantly left the other he rested his forehead against hers while her fingers ran softly up and down his muscles back.

“Wife,” he breathed, a smile growing on his lips that she met easily with a sheepish shy grin of her own.

“Husband.” Brienne laughed softly, burying her head in his shoulder. “Gods I don’t think I’ll ever tire of saying that.”

“Good.” Jaime dotted a kiss on the corner of her jaw and then made his way up to her big soft lips.

“Because I’m yours and you’re mine.”

Brienne ran her hand through his freshly cut hair, blue eyes soft and gentle and full of more love than he ever thought someone could ever hold for him. “From this day until the end of our days,” she finished softly. 

“Forever.”

“Forever,” Brienne agreed, kissing him again. Her strong arms wrapped around him, the tips of her fingers lightly caressing the muscles in his back. “I love you, Jaime.”

“I love you too, My Lady.”

It took every ounce of strength for him to leave the warmth of her embrace. He took her by the hand and they made their way to the small desk where a bottle of the best white arbor wine and two glasses were set out. He poured a glass for her and himself and the two of them lifted the goblets and clinked it softly against one another. Jaime looked over his glass at her and he grinned at his new bride.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” he told her.

Brienne scoffed, rolling her eyes. “It’s not a good omen to lie to your wife,” her eyes lit up at her newest title, “on your wedding night.”

“I’m not lying. So drink.”

She blinked. “Sorry?”

“Drink,” he told her, a smug expression on his face. “I told a truth about you so you have to drink.”

Jaime’s eyes lit up as she laughed that big laugh of hers that he would never be able to hear enough of before she took a small sip of wine. “My turn,”  Brienne said once she finished. She bit her lip as she looked at him. “You... are the most honorable man I’ve ever known.”

Jaime melted at her words, said without a hint of irony or skepticism. He took a drink of wine, never taking his eyes from her. Jaime nodded at her. “You saved me from myself.”

“You drink.” When Jaime opened his mouth to protest she shook her head. “You saved yourself. You did all the hard work, I only nudged you in the right direction.” His throat grew tight and it pained him to swallow the hard lump much less the wine. “You’re an amazing father.”

He took a large confident gulp of the sweet vintage. “You’re an amazing mother.”

Brienne emptied the cup before she set it down on the stand beside her. She took his face in her hands, gently stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, the same way she held a darker lion a lifetime ago in a darker place. 

“You’re a good man.”

The cackling of the fire in their chambers bathed them in warmth, a far cry from the stinging northern cold that bit at him through his clothes. She was draped in crimson silk and him in supple golden leather rather than mail and her in a thin black housecoat. There were no tears in her eyes, and no hatred for himself in his. She didn’t have to beg him to stay because he would have killed himself rather than ever leave her again.

He was angry at her for what he thought was a lie last time, what he  _ knew was a _ lie. He was angry that the honorable Brienne of Tarth was telling falsehoods just to get him to stay, just to keep him from going back to Cersei, his other half, his soulmate, the woman who was as hateful as he was.

There was no anger now. No need to prove her words wrong, nothing but a heart full of soft tenderness that only Brienne seemed to bring out of him, because it wasn’t a lie. She had showed him that. He wasn’t all lamb, nor was he all lion; he was Jaime. Just Jaime.

And Jaime was a good man, with a good wife.

Without taking his eyes away from her he barely took a sip of the wine before he put the cup down on the stand beside her and buried his hand in her straw colored hair, soft and blonde and perfect. “I love you,” he muttered, staring at her crimson painted lips. They looked cold, and lonely, and desperately needed to be kissed sooner rather than later. 

“I love you too,” she whispered before she grinned. “Husband.”

“Wife.”

Then he was finally kissing her. It seemed different then the other times their lips danced together. It was somehow innocent and frenzied, passionate and chaste, slow and needy all at once. Her tongue moved gracefully against his and their arms wrapped tight around one another. The bristle of his beard scratched pleasantly against her as she gripped his head firmly, as if to keep him from leaving her, not that he ever would.

Not again.

He walked her back to the bed and the two of them fell into soft furs and fresh sheets, his lips never leaving hers as he captured her lips in kiss after kiss, his tongue pressing together and dancing with hers as the two of them climbed further up on the bed so their legs weren’t dangling off.

Jaime reluctantly pulled away from the kiss but before he could lament on missing her too much, his lips were on her neck and traveling up to that sensitive bit of skin right behind her ear.

He felt her shudder shuddered as he sucked and lightly nipped at her soft sweet scented skin. Brienne gripped his arms and pulled him tighter against her, her shirt nails digging into the muscles in his back.

He groaned as her nails lightly ran over his skin, clutching at his doublet. Jaime increased the fouriousity of his kisses, flicking his tongue rapidly against that bit of skin that he knew would create a stirring wet feeling between her mile long legs, being proven right when she moaned, running one of her feet against his leg. He leaned back and the three hands began unbuttoning the doublet and soon the golden leather was on the soft fox-fur rug besides the bed. They made quick work of the velvet golden shirt beneath that and her blue eyes and long slender fingers wandered over his chest; strong and decorated with the scars of battle and tourneys over the years, similar to the artwork of markings on Brienne's body.

Jaime looked over the silk gown, raising a brow at her. Brienne reached down and began unclasping the lion ornament in the center that held the cape close then the lions on her shoulder, and with a soft ‘ _ swoosh _ ’ the crimson colored cape fell to the floor. Beneath the red silk were ivory colored thin ribbons that kept the white gown closed, loosely tied with only simple knots.

So loosely tied and so simple, in fact, that a man with one hand could easily undo them. One by one Jaime tugged at the silk ribbons, the knots giving way easily under his fingers until moments later the dress fell open and she let it join the growing pile of clothes beside their bed. 

Her body was littered with scars including the four huge deep thick marks from the assault in the bear pit. The softness from the birth was gone, her hard pronounced muscles, more than any highborn lady should ever possess, were back and and the stretch marks had faded into pale lines.

Emerald eyes looked over her small breasts, her boyish hips, her short straw colored hair, the scars that curved around her long neck, the thick bush of pale blonde curls between her legs… The flesh colored paint had been rubbed off and the long scar that maimed and disfigured her face was as prominent as ever.

She was so beautiful. She was perfect. She was astonishing, seductive, beautiful, kind, lovely, sexy, she was everything Jaime wanted, she was… Brienne.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jaime breathed, hardly able to believe the Gods gave him the privilege to be the only man Brienne allowed to look at the stunning perfect body beneath the armor and mail she often wore.

His eyes fell on her small breasts, having mostly gone back to the size they were before the pregnancy. They could fit comfortably in one hand, pink nipples pert and rigid and just like her lips earlier, they looked rather cold and lonely and in desperate need to be kissed. 

He bent down and took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard while his tongue danced around the erect bud while his hand grabbed and caressed its twin.

Brienne cried out and arched off the bed, grabbing at his hair with both hands and giving it a slight tug. He listened as she panted and whimpered as he tased her right breast into a taut peak before he switched to the left, giving it the same undivided loyal attention. 

He was throbbing, and his erection was pushing hard against the stiff fabric of the starched pants. When he brushed his hardness against her thigh without so much as a word Brienne reached in between them, freeing him from the constraints of his britches, wrapping her hand around him and began rubbing him in time with his tongue against her nipple. He grew hard and smooth in her rough hand, and he groaned loudly as her thumb encircled the head, painting his length with precum.

He put a hand high on her inner thigh, gazing into her eyes asking a silent question. She bit her lip for a long moment before she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer on top of her, laying a kiss as soft as butterfly wings behind his ear. “Not tonight,” she begged in a gentle whisper. “Soon but not tonight… I don’t want to mess this up if it doesn’t go well.”

“You couldn’t do  _ anything _ to mess tonight up,” he promised but nevertheless he pulled his hand away and buried it in her hair. He kissed along her jawline to her neck, feeling her twist her fingers into claws that dug into his back when he reached a certain point at the nape of her neck.

Brienne wrapped her long legs around him, pulling him in tighter. Her feet had managed to lower his trousers around his thighs so he finished, pulling them off completely. Jaime laid on top of her and he and his bride stared at one another for a moment before he reached between them, positioning himself between her wet southern lips then pushing in gently, reveling in the soft moans and whimpers that escaped her gorgeous plump lips.

Jaime pulled out almost to the head and slid back in, starting a slow steady rhythm that she matched thrust for thurst, rolling her hips and pushing up to take even more of him.

“Jaime…” Brienne whimpered breathlessly, her nails digging into his back, pulling him further into her. “Jaime…”

“What do you need?” He whispered his words into her ear, planting a soft kiss on her lips. “What do you need, My Lady?”

“You.”

Jaime smiled at her before he attacked her soft lips with his and began a slow gentle pattern of strokes in and out, in and out, kissing her and tasting her all the while. Brienne wrapped her legs around him as he moved inside her.

“Jaime…” she moaned, throwing her head back and he at once peppered her long neck with kisses, the urge to great to resist. Brienne whimpered again as his mouth dropped to her neck, sucking and kissing and licking like he was starving. “Jaime… My lord, my husband…”

“My wife,” he breathed into her ear, rocking into her over and over, again and again, admiring her, loving her. “My wife, my beautiful sapphire wife…”

Their new title brought forth a harmonious symphony of cries and grunts and moans that echoed a perfect melodic concert in his ears, far more beautiful than any songs of fair maidens and gallant knights the singers often sang about in court. 

When he was almost on the cusp of release Jaime shifted his body forward, his chest almost in line with her broad shoulders so that every time he thrust into her, his shaft rubbed against her clit, letting her have the release he normally would have given with his fingers .

She gasped, clutching him tight where he was sure she drew blood but that was the last thing on his mind as he hurried his now erratic movements, their climbs mirroring one another until finally they reached their peak together.

It was a gentle explosion of stars. Brienne cried his name and clung to him as tight as she dared. Jaime gasped out her name over and over again as he spilled his seed deep inside of her.

Jaime collapsed on top of his wife, his hips jerking ever so slightly as he spent the last of himself inside of the warmth that he never wanted to leave while he buried his face in the crook of her long neck that was now marked with his bites and kisses and suckles. Both of their breaths were trembling and she had yet to loosen her ironclad grip on him as he softened inside her.

After a moment Jaime lifted his head up so he could look at his new bride, looking down at her and memorizing the redness of her swollen lips, the marks and bites on her neck that proved to the world she was his, every disheveled curl, every single freckle…  Her face was crimson with blush and two wide astonishing pools of sapphires were staring back at him as he reached out and pushed a curl from her face.

“You’re so beautiful, My Lady,” he whispered, kissing her as soft and sweet as the wine he tasted on her lips until they were both in need of breath. 

He finally pulled out of her and already he missed her warmth and softness and he knew as soon as he was able he wanted to be back inside her. Jaime felt her slickness and his seed on him and as he nuzzled her neck he sent up a silent prayer to the Mother.

_ Please let tonight give her what she wants… Please let tonight give her a son or another daughter, let her have the pregnancy she deserved with Joanna. _

Brienne twisted in his arms so they were staring face to face. She took a hold of his hand and brought it up, running the back of his knuckles against her maimed cheek. “I love you, Brienne,” said Jaime, putting all the truth into the words he would never tire of saying. 

“I love you too,” she whispered. A soft teary smile made its way to her face and she pulled herself closer to him. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

She bit her lip for a moment, glancing down at the blanket before sapphires met emeralds. “When I woke up after our first time, it was the best day of my life.  But I… I was nervous.”

“About what?”

“My septa, the septon on the main sept on Tarth, they all said that if… if a woman had ‘relations’ before her wedding night it would make a wedding night less special, less meaningful.”

Jaime’s heart pounded against his ribs and he fought to keep his face neutral. If he knew being with her before tonight would have ruined it for her, he never would have touched her…

“Did it?” He struggled to keep the worry from showing. “Did us being together before make it… less special to you?”

To his surprise tears jumped to her eyes. She shook her head and Jaime let out a breath of relief as she let out a small sob full of joy. “Tonight is... it’s everything I ever thought it would be. It’s perfect, Jaime.”

Jaime grinned, bringing his lips forward to catch hers in another soft kiss, brushing her tears away. He held her tight in his arms, at first barely pressing his lips against hers, running his hand up and done her pale arm scattered with freckles but soon enough, Brienne had hooked her leg over his. His cock began to stir and the feverishness of their kisses increased. 

“Brienne...” he muttered, tracing the soft swell of her breast. “Brienne…”

“What do you need?” she whispered, running her hands through his hair and rocking her hips against his. “Jaime…”

He put his stump and his hand on her hips and twisted them until she was sitting astride him, her long legs on either side of him. For a moment she looked like she might protest, the same way she did whenever he asks her to ride him but this time before she could form an argument he leaned up and captured her lips in a kiss. 

“Please.” He kissed her again, letting his lips trial against the corner of her mouth, her jaw, her maimed cheek and back down again.

Brienne bit at her lip, looking unsure only for a moment before she reached between them and began stroking him until he was at his full length for her and only her.

She sank down on him, and began to move her hips up and down, taking him all in, throwing her head back and moaning as she rode, her strong thighs imprisoning his as they squeezed together. 

Jaime sat up, wrapping his arms around her, thrusting upwards to her low moans. She grabbed his face as he held onto her hips to guide her as she moved, matching his speed, his thrusts, the two of them one heart, one soul, one flesh, gazing into his eyes all the while, foreheads pressed up against one another as they carried each other into the abyss for a second time that night, gasping and groaning each other’s name as they came.

They both sank into the thick warm blankets, panting and holding one another while he softened inside of her once more. The heat he had savored between her legs and the thick pale blue and bright pink furs covering them and the roar of the fire was almost too much heat, even for a southern boy like him. Jaime kissed her cheek before he got out of bed and padded across the room to where the wine was. He poured the two of them a cup but rather than return to the bed he headed to the window and pushed open the panes, inhaling the smell of the island air, heavy with sea and salt, and sighing contently as a gentle late winter breeze licked at his face.

The moon was full tonight and the stars were shining down as bright as they had ever dared before and even from the castle he could see the waves of the sapphire oceans now black crashing against the white sands.

“Jaime,” Brienne called out to him and he heard her rustle in the furs. “Come back to bed.”

A sinful smile grew on his lips. He turned back to his bride, grinning wildly. “I have a better idea…”

The beaches on Tarth were a thing of beauty. They were far more appealing to the eye than the rocky beaches of Casterly Rock or the crowded choppy waters of the Blackwater and the beaches of the Iron Islands were harsh and dreary, hard and cold just like the men and women they claimed to breed.

But the Tarth oceans were a thing of beauty. Pure white sands and the famed brilliantly blue waters were so clear that you could see every speck of sand if you were to look down. The waves were gentle and rolling and apart from several large boulders jutting out near the shallows you’d be hard pressed to find a single rock or anything you could hurt your foot on if you were so inclined to say, for a midnight swim with your new bride. 

All of Tarth shores were beautiful but the most astonishing strip of ocean on the island belonged only to Brienne, Joanna and now Jaime. White sand so fine it didn’t even seem to stick to your body, waters so blue you had to convince yourself it was real and not just a shade of the evening hallucination. Tall palm trees and lush vegetation on either side pulled double duty, letting others know where the private beach began and ended as well as give the swimmers privacy from curious onlookers.

Best of all, the Evenstars of old made a passageway right besides the Lord’s chambers to the stairway carved into the rocks that led them right down to the beach.

“Jaime!” Brienne hissed, casting a nervous glance back to the white marble castle but nevertheless following him to the shore. His toes dug into the fine white sand and he inhaled the glorious shore and salt and rock and more spectacular of all the woman following close behind him; sweat and sex and ‘Brienne’. “We’re going to get caught!”

“So what? It’s our wedding night, Brienne.”

“I know but-.” She looked back at Evenfall then back at Jaime, apprehension dancing in her blue eyes but not enough to tell Jaime she was dead set against this proposition. “What if we’re caught?”

The wind was whipping through her disheveled curls, the makeup she wore had been sweated off and she looked as beautiful and bare as she ever had before. He buried his hand in her hair and wrapped his stump around her waist. “Then they catch us. They catch a man going for a swim with his wife on their private beach on their wedding night.”

The use of her title seemed to soften her up some so he grinned, discarding the silk crimson robe he had tied around him and kissed her before he held out his hand to her. “Would My Lady join me for a swim?”

Brienne sighed softly but he saw a fluttering of a smile before she glanced back at the castle to make sure they weren’t being watched before she undid the rope holding her heavy black housecoat closed. Jaime grinned wildly before he took her hand and the two of them ran towards the normally clear blue waters now an inky black with only the moon and stars to guide them.

They both jumped into one particularly large wave and paddled out a ways. Brienne dived beneath the surface, emerging a moment later with a loud gasp from the chill of the water. 

“This was a horrible idea!” Brienne told him, teeth chattering slightly. Her nipples were solid rock and the chill of the wind blowing on the little part of her body that wasn’t underwater was doing her no favors. “The water's freezing, Jaime!”

He cast her a smug grin. “So come over here and keep your knight warm.”

She snorted and a moment later Jaime was laughing as well. “If you say something that tacky and gaudy again this marriage isn’t going to last very long.”

He grinned, watching her dive beneath the black water for a moment before she began to swim out towards the large rock that jutted out in the middle of the sea, smooth and round, not a jagged edge to be found. If she had moved well on the dance floor, watching her in the water made her performance at the feast earlier a jesters show. Every stroke was smooth and powerful, more graceful than he had even dared to dream she was capable of being, and fast too. She glided and cut through the water so sharply and seamlessly like the waves were parting for her. The long muscles in her arms and legs stretched and tightened with every stroke and every kick. Jaime feasted on the magnificent view a while longer before he swam after her in a much more clumsily and slower fashion, meeting her at the large rock where she was holding herself up. His feet barely scraped the bottom of the sands and only his neck and a touch of shoulder was exposed over the waters edge.

He swam over to her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her as close as he was able. The water gently lapped at the two of them in small black waves. 

“Once you get used to the cold it’s really not that bad,” he said.

“True,” she admitted. Brienne pushed her soaking wet hair from her face. “It’s actually kinda nice.”

“Hmm. It’s very nice.” 

Brienne swam closer to her knight and Jaime bit his lip as his eyes wandered over the tall blonde. She may have gotten used to the chill of the water but her nipples were still strained and erect as he would be in a moment.

Brienne seemed to notice where his eyes had traveled and she bit her bottom lip, swimming even closer and pressing herself up against him.

“I definitely think a swim was a good idea,” she whispered as she draped her arms around his neck.

“Agree, My Lady.”

Jaime put his hands on her hips but the two knights made no other move as they stared at one another, lightly bobbing in the clear blue water before she leaned forward and kissed him, being eagerly met by her husband’s lips.

Jaime slid his hand down and pawed at her ass, enjoying the soft groan she made in his ear. Then, in a rather surprising move and a squeal of surprise from her, Jaime lifted her up and pinned her between him and the rock.

“Jaime I- I’m too heavy,” she protested as he nestled himself between her legs. He rolled his hips, letting her feel his already hardness rub up against her thigh. She closed her eyes and moaned. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Brienne?”

“Hmm?”

He pulled back from her, a smug grin plastered on his face. “I’m strong enough.”

Her eyes flew open and her lips turned upwards into a shocked smile. “Jaime Lannister, you arrogant-!”

But before she could finish her thought he slammed his lips against her enveloped her mouth in a heavy sensual kiss. After another moment of hesitation Brienne lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, never taking her lips away from his, moaning as his fingers dug into her firm ass.

“Jaime,” Brienne groaned as his lips moved behind her ear, kissing and sucking at the pulse point that seemed to be directly connected to that treasure between her legs.”Jaime…”

“Brienne,” Jaime panted, growing hard as her whimpering reached his ears when he pawed at her ass. “Brienne… tell me what you need, Brienne.”

“You,” Brienne moaned as she threw her head back, jerking her hips forward, needing everything he had to offer her. “I need you, Jaime…”

That was all be needed to hear.

He pushed into her as deep as Brienne would allow him. His lips attacked every inch of skin he could see; her neck, her ear, her lips, wherever made his knight scream to the heavens was where Jaime kissed and sucked and nibbled.

“Jaime!” Brienne gasped, squeezing her thighs together tighter around him. “Harder! Harder, My Lord, please!”

He did as she commanded, moving inside her harder and faster, finding a rhythm that was driving them both to the brink.

While the waves crashed around them Jaime slammed  into his bride over and over, faster and faster, her slick wetness surrounding him. It wasn’t long before his movements became more erratic, more wild and sure enough moments later he came inside his bride, gasping and calling out her name for all to hear with her following moments later.

The second her feet touched down on the sand he let go of her and immediately dipped beneath the waves, his arms and legs shaking far too much to hold himself up any longer.

Jaime enjoyed the feel of the cold water surrounding him for a moment before he swam back up taking in a much needed gulp of air, running his hand over his face, both of them gasping for air and panting. 

Brienne was leaning against the rock, body trembling. She draped her arms around his neck, kissing him softly and licking the salt water from his lips. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder then leaned back against the rock. This time it was his legs that were wrapped around her waist, using her lap as a chair of sorts as she leaned back against the rock.

She was strong enough too.

“Thank you,” she breathed into his soft skin. 

He pushed back a wet piece of hair from her face. “For what?”

“For tonight, for loving me, for making me a wife, for making me a mother, for not expecting me to change just because you put a child inside me or a cloak around my shoulders…” Brienne pulled away from him so she could gaze into his eyes. “Just… thank you, Jaime. For everything.”

He reached up and kissed her. “You don’t have to thank me for any of that because you’ve given me so much more. You made me see that I can be a good man, an honorable man, you made me realize what true love is, not just obsession, you gave me a chance to be a father not just a sire for another man.”

Jaime brushed away what could have been tears or sea water. “I love you, Brienne. So much.”

“I love you too.” She grinned that wide grin she kept hidden from him for far too long. “Husband.”

“Wife,” he purred, capturing her lips in a kiss again.

In the Faith of the Seven, the number seven was considered the holiest and most sacred number. Which meant, of course, that their wedding night was clearly the holiest night either of them had ever experienced… 

 

Please Review!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really dislike the trope of ‘doing the thing that your assaulter or rapist did in the bedroom makes you feel better’ in fic (if it applies in real life and it made you feel powerful and allowed you to take back something someone took from you then you do whatever you need to do bb ❤️) But that’s why I felt it was important to have her go ‘ya know what; I don’t want to try being fingered tonight, because it might not make me feel powerful, it might trigger something on my wedding night and that’s not what I want to remember tonight to be’ and he didn’t really use his hand between her legs because it’s 100% okay to not be 100% okay. But anyway I really hope you guys are enjoying all this fluffy smutty dawn, like I know a lot of you were looking forward to these chapters. So please review, please follow me @Lariska_Prgitay and above all please enjoy!


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day marriage fluff n’ smut

The white cub was as beautiful as it had ever been before.

Brienne laughed softly as the small lioness crouched and leapt into her outstretched arms, nuzzling her head under the knights chin. When she went to pet her she playfully batted at her hand, purring all the while. 

“My little love,” Brienne cooed, burying her face in his soft white fur. “I love you so much...”

The cub yawned before she turned once, twice, three times in a circle before she flopped down to sleep in her arms but not before he looked up at Brienne, blue eyes shining with all the love in the world while she smiled down at it.

Then the sounds of battle were raging on outside her chambers.

Not her room. A bathhouse in Kingslanding. 

Her heart jumped in her throat as she clutched the lion to her chest. The tiny cub ‘mewed’ and clung to the knight with tiny little claws, backing up into her as far as she could and nuzzling against her breast, looking to her to save her.

She was scared, and so was Brienne. She held her tighter, whispering soft promises that nothing would happen to him, that she would protect her. 

But then she looked down she was gone. She let out a strangled cry as tears leapt to her eyes. 

Not now. Not again.

“You can’t protect her,” Jaime said sternly. He was standing suddenly beside her, holding the cub. “You can’t save her.”

“I can!” she cried, reaching for the tiny lion but he held her out of her grasp. It’s whimpered frightened mews were breaking her heart. “I can protect her, I promise! Let me see her! Please! I only just held her! I just held her…!”

Brienne sank to her knees, sobbing as Jaime thrust the tiny cub into the arms of her former squire. “Jaime, please let me see her! Please don’t take her away from me! Please! Jaime, _please_!” 

But both men ignored her pleas and Podrick took the cub and ran. When he opened the door there was a Dothraki standing there, his akrah so sharp that it’s edge was lost in the dim light of the torches. With a loud yell he swung the curved sword, ripping open the tiny cubs throat and staining its beautiful white fur as crimson as her house colors.

Brienne choked back a scream as she flew up in bed, a cold sweat drenching her. The early morning sun was streaming through the azure and rose colored curtain, bathing their chambers in soft pink and blue light. A light warm breeze carrying the glorious smell of the ocean filled their room.

It wasn’t the first time she had that particular night terror. The first had been in her room in Kingslanding and Brienne had woken up screaming and sobbing, clutching at a confounded Jaime’s sleep-shirt, begging him to forgive her and to please let her see Joanna. The next was the night of the funeral, where Jaime woke up to find Brienne not next to him in her childhood chambers but sleeping in the rocking chair besides the moon shaped bassinet. 

When she woke later that night at Joanna’s cries for milk, Brienne found herself covered by warm furs and Jaime asleep at her feet. 

They had been been sprinkled throughout the six months since the birth and every time Brienne needed to see Joanna, to hold her, to assure herself she could be with her daughter whenever she wanted, that she wasn’t a blood stain on the Red Keeps stone floors.

“You okay?” Jaime muttered from beside her. His arm was slung around her waist and was pulling her tighter to him.

She fought to keep the tremble from her voice as she stood up from the bed. “Yes… yes, I just- I need to check on the baby.”

“We have a hundred servants to take care of her including a nursemaid. Come back to bed.”

“I know, I just- I’ll be right back, I promise.” After shaking some of the leftover sand from her housecoat she pulled it on, tying the sash around her waist. Then, as to not worry him, she kissed the top of his head. “Go back to sleep.”

He muttered out a response but Brienne was already halfway out the room. She made the short trip to the nursery, her heartbeat not slowing until she heard her daughters content coos and babbles and even then it wasn’t until she opened the door and laid eyes on her did her breathing returned to normal. Joanna’s eyes lit up when she spotted Brienne and lifted her arms, as much a cry to be picked up as if she had shouted it.

“Hello, my little love,” the knight sighed with relief, picking up her daughter and cradling her to her chest. “Your mother had a nightmare but it’s all better now…” She kissed the top of her head. “You made it all better.”

Joanna played with a lace ribbon on her pale blue sleeping gown as Brienne laid her down and changed the wet nappy. A moment later she heard footsteps and then a very confused Wylla asking her what she was doing in here.

“I just needed to see her for a bit,” Brienne answered as she picked her up. She turned towards the plump nursemaid and spotted a bottle of a thick pale purple-ish substance in Wyllas hand. “Is that her breakfast?”

“Mmm. Puréed plums mixed with goats milk.”

Brienne feigned an overabundance of excitement as Wylla took Joanna from Brienne. “Hear that, my little love? Plums and goats milk; doesn’t that sound delicious?”

Rather Joanna agreed or not she nonetheless leaned back in her nursemaids arms and suckled the sweet concoction, content to simply look up at Brienne as she ate.

“Do you need any help feeding her?” she asked as Wylla settled her in the crook of her arm.

“We got it very well covered, M’lady. In fact I thought you said you wanted to wait until she was off the breast to get married so you and Ser Jaime could have a few days to yourself without worrying about the little lady?”

“I did, I do. I just wanted to check on her.”

“Well the little lady is fine.” She gave Brienne a gentle push out of the room. “Now go, get back to your husband. I’m sure you have many…  _ things _ to do today,” she finished with a quirked brow and a smirk that painted Brienne's face red. 

After the tall knight pressed a short kiss to Joanna’s brow and Wylla promised to look after her, Brienne headed back to her chambers to find Jaime still laying in bed with his eye open and a lazy smile on his lips. The blanket covering them slid down to his hips and his bare muscled chest was on full display

_ Gods he’s gorgeous, _ she thought as she looked him over. She allowed herself a soft smile.  _ He’s gorgeous and he’s all mine as I’m all his… _

“I missed you,” her lion said as she went over and fed the fireplace with fresh logs. 

“I was gone two minutes.”

“That’s two minutes too long, My Lady.” 

Brienne chuckled as she lit the flint, catching a spark on its first go. “Well forgive me, My Lord, I didn’t realize you were counting the moments until I returned.” 

She shed her housecoat and climbed under the furs with Jaime. The moment she was back in the bed Jaime wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close to him as he could, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She ran a calloused hand through his hair, and moaned a soft content little moan into his mouth. When he had kissed his fill he leaned his forehead against hers, a lazy smile on his lips that came as easy as drawing a breath.

“I love you.” He nuzzled at the crock of her neck. “Brienne of House Lannister.”

A sheepish grin rose to her lips. “Call me that again?” she asked almost embarrassed for the request, but Jaime just smiled wider and began peppering her jaw, her neck, her maimed cheek, her shoulder with soft kisses.

“Brienne of House Lannister,” he purred, gently nibbling on the fleshy part of her ear and drawing fourth a moan. “The Lady of the Rock. My beautiful lioness.”

Brienne closed her eyes as he climbed on top of her, kissing her and slowly rocking his hips against hers. “Ya know,” Jaime muttered against the soft pale flesh. His fingers traced a small scar on her hip long since faded to white. “Nowadays most people would consider the name Lannister to be unworthy.”

“Do they?” she moaned. Brienne threw her head back as his lips sucked and nipped at her long pale neck. 

“They do.” Her breath trembled as he cupped the swell of her breast. “Most wouldn’t want to take it for themselves.”

“Most people-.” She whimpered as his fingers pinched at her nipple. Her nails ran down his muscled back and he groaned when she grabbed his ass. “Are idiots…” 

“So you’re not ashamed?” Their kisses grew more feverish, building a fire deep in her belly. “Or embarrassed?” She let out a breathy gasp as his tongue danced against hers. “Of being a Lannister?”

“Jaime.”

“Hmm?”

She reached between them and gave his stiffening length a long stroke. He shuddered at her warm touch.  “Shut up.”

Jaime did as he was told and rather than spend precious time talking, he instead used his lips and tongue to kiss down the four curved marks on her neck that the bear had given her. His mouth found her breast, pale white and dotted with marks from their activities the other night, and Brienne let out a sharp hiss of pain as his teeth scraped her nipple before the warmth of his tongue soothed the bite while she stroked him at a pace she knew drove him to madness, almost punishingly slow. Brienne whimpered, throwing back her head as his right arm slid between her legs. She rocked her hips against him as he rubbed the scarred stump against her slick southern lips. 

“Jaime…” she breathed, taking his face in her hands and bringing him up from her chest so she could kiss him properly and fiercely. Jaime went to pull his arm away but she grabbed what had disgusted his former lover and put his stump back between her legs, holding it there as she ground against his stump.

She could feel his merciless smirk before he sucked her lower lip between his and she fumbled for a moment before he took his length in her hand again, stroking him eagerly and breathlessly. Jaime gasped and thrust into her hand as she stroked up and down, faster and faster while she ground against him faster and faster, harder and harder.  She angled his arm just so and let out a loud gasp as she writhed against his stump, never stopping her own strokes for even a second.

“Right there!” she cried out to the Gods, her voice a high-pitched pleading whimper as a particularly rugged raised scar brushed against her clit and a fire burned white hot inside her. “Right there! Jaime!”

Jaime gasping out her name was music to her ears as he pumped into her hand over and over until he yanked her hand and his stump away and a moment later he was slamming into her soaked warmth.

A thousand stars danced before her and the world shrunk to just Jaime, his hand, his stump and his cock spilling his seed into her as the fire that had been burning exploded fiercely inside her.

He collapsed on top of her, breath heaving as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, occasionally jerking his hips as he emptied himself into her until he finally softened. Brienne ran one hand through his hair and another lightly traced the muscles in his back until he had the strength to look at her and capture her lips in a heated wet kiss. Afterwards he took his rightful place beside her, protesting diligently as she got up from the bed and grabbed a handkerchief from the desk. 

When she returned she brought his stump to her lips and pressed a kiss to it, biting back a moan as she tasted her sweet saltiness on the scarred flesh before she wiped him clean. Afterwards she laid by his side, their arms wrapped tightly around one another. 

“Not a bad way to start the morning,” Jaime mused. “Wife.” 

Brienne chuckled, resting her head on his chest. His heartbeat played her a melody she was sure was only meant for her, no matter how many times Cersei had also gotten to hear this. She could feel his seed between her legs and she placed a hand on her flat stomach.

_ Please,  _ she asked the Mother.  _ A little boy this time; an heir for Jaime, a brother for Joanna. Her own Galladon. _

“Not bad at all.” She gave him a soft smile. “Husband. And I meant what I said, by the way.”

“About what?”

“About me being proud to be a Lannister. About me being proud to take your name and be apart of your house, and I can’t tell you how proud I am that our daughter shares your name as well.”

For a moment his green eyes grew wet with tears. He buried his hand in her short disheveled hair and was kissing her. 

“Thank you, My Lady,” he whispered against her lips. “Thank you…”

Before she could deepen the affection, there was a knock at their door.

Jaime got out of bed and wrapped himself in his robe while Brienne made sure the furs covered her breasts. When he opened the door a young serving girl strode in carrying a tray heavy with chilled berries and cream, a rasher of bacon, warm bread with butter and honey and apricot preserves, crisp fried fish, a bottle of summer peach wine and milk sweetened with honey and cinnamon. 

“Sorry to interrupt, M’Lady,” the girl said, the tray tipping almost dangerously from the weight. Jaime rushed forward and took it from her and set it down on the small marble table. “But breakfast is served.”

“Thank you, Ellyn ,” Brienne said with a friendly smile that the servant returned in kind. “Give my thanks to Corenna as well, that all looks amazing.”

“Of course, M’lady.” Ellyn turned towards Jaime, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she looked at the tall lord with a strip of muscled chest exposed. “M’lord, Addam wanted to let you know that the horses are saddled and ready whenever you two are.”

He smiled at her, all sweet softness and dazzling green eyes. “Thank you for letting me know.” Brienne had to bite back a laugh as the girl averted her eyes, managed a quick curtsy and hurried out. 

“I think she might be in love,” the tall knight said rather amused as she got out of bed and pulled her house coat around her. 

Jaime pulled out her chair for her. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Mmm.” She poured a glass of wine for him and then some of the iced milk for herself. “Her and every other woman on this island.” Brienne smeared some of the apricot spread on the bread as Jaime took his seat opposite her and bit into a crisp piece of bacon.

“Is that so?” 

“It is. Women can’t help themselves around you.”

Emerald eyes sparkled as he handed her the bowl of berries and cream before taking a sip of the sweet summer wine. “Was that the case with you? Even when you hated me, did you think of me as good looking?” 

There was an obvious coyness in his tone and his eyes glinted mischievously in the early morning light and Brienne took a drink of the chilled milk to help temper her blush. “Truthfully? I thought you were obnoxiously arrogantly attractive from the first moment we met and all I could think was how unfair it was that such a dishonorable man got to look like a God.”

Jaime laughed. The heavenly sound brought a  smile to her face. “A God huh?”

“Mmm. Then as time went on and I learned what a good man you were the obnoxiousness faded while the arrogance has... mostly faded.” Brienne bit her lip, looking down at the table and pushing around a few of the berries with her spoon. “And you?” Her cheeks burned a bright crimson and she could hardly stand to meet his eyes. “If- if you do-...when-.”

“When did I realize you were beautiful?” he graciously finished for her. Her blush deepened and she avoided rolling her eyes knowing he would just argue with her and instead she barely managed in nodding her head. “After the bear pit.”

Brienne raised her eyes, brows furrowed. “After the- Jaime, I was a mess. I was covered in blood and dirt, I was wearing that _horrible_ pink gown…”

“I don’t know what happened to made me look at you different but I did. I found your look fascinating before that, unattractive yes, but fascinating nonetheless, then something clicked that night. You were sitting there, your knees to your chest, not saying anything, you and me as far away from the rest of the men as possible while still sharing their fire, you jumped at every sound, you flinched whenever one of the guards got too close and I found myself wanting to comfort you. You were so vulnerable and meek but still as strong and stubborn as ever and things I thought were unsightly before no longer were and you were almost a beauty in my eyes.”  

She blinked away the tears that appeared suddenly. “...Oh. That’s… oh.”

Jaime chuckled, reaching across the table and taking her hand in his before bringing the back of it to his lips. “So we both know when we thought the other one was attractive… When did you know you were in love with me?” he asked, offering her the plate of tiny fish.

Her septa’s words echoed in her head as she took one and waved the rest away.  _ Nothing is more unattractive to a lord than a lady who gorges herself. _ “At Joffreys wedding,” she answered, to his great confusion, as she took a small dainty bite of the fried fish.

“Because of all the romance has eavy in the air?”

She held back a chuckle. “It was just something Cersei said that made me realize it.”

“What did she do?” he asked quickly, already sounding nervous on Briennes behalf.

“Nothing horrible,” she assured him. “She thanked me for returning you to Kingslanding and I told her that you were the one who rescued me quite a few times in fact.”

“I’m sure she loved hearing that.”

“I didn’t really understand why she was so angry at the time or understand why she was upset at you,” Brienne admitted. “But afterwards she told me how nice it must have been for me to serve Renly and Lady Catelyn then you and ‘flit from one camp to the next’. When I told her I didn’t serve you she said…” A slow smile spread across her face at the memory that for a long time mortified her. “She said ‘but you love him’. And I wanted to tell her no, I wanted to tell  _ myself _ no, but I couldn’t. Because I realized she was right. Then my feelings just grew over time.”

The softness in his eyes made her want to melt, and then it was her turn to take his hand and bring it to her lips. 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me she said that?” he asked her after he swallowed a spoonful of berries. 

“I was humiliated,” she admitted. “The Queen of all people called me out on my feelings for you and she was angry about it as well. I just wanted to hide away and pretend she was wrong.”

“I’m sorry my sister embarrassed you,” said Jaime. “Truly. But you have to admire the irony that Cersei of all people made you realize you were in love with me.”

“Ironic yes… still no less embarrassing.” 

Jaime chuckled and gave a conceding nod of the head. “Fair point.” He speared one of the small fishes with his fork. “For me it was when you threatened me.”

“Back when we were traveling to Kingslanding?”

“At Riverrun. You told me if I didn’t get the castle to surrender then me and you would have to fight. I’d never been so terrified of battle, not because I only had one hand and couldn’t fight but because I would have rather cut off my other hand then fight you. I didn’t want you hurt, I couldn’t… I would have walked away if they didn’t let us in,” he admitted.

Brienne swallowed hard, looking down at the table and running her hand over one of one of the carved moons in the smooth blue marble. “You told me you would have killed everyone in Riverrun to get back to her.”

He bowed his head, face red with shame. “I know. But I … I’d like to think that when the time came to make good on my threats, when it really came down to it I wouldn’t have followed through. I like to think I would have been a good man for you.”

“You would have.” Brienne raised her eyes. “I know you would have been. You wouldn’t kill a whole host of innocent people just to end a standoff; not for her, not for me.”

He didn’t look at her. “I tried to kill Bran Stark,” he muttered. 

Brienne bit her lip as she searched over his guilt ridden face. The one secret she hid from Sansa and Arya, the one secret she would take to the grave not out of loyalty but fear for the man she loved. If the Starks knew what happened, if they had full proof evidence he hurt their brother… 

_ Could I have done it? Could I kill an innocent child if it meant Joanna’s life? Could I cripple a little boy if it meant Jaime’s life?  _

Brienne shuddered. She didn’t want to think about it. She prayed to the Seven she would never have to face that kind of decision because either way, the choice would haunt her.

“I wish you had tried to scare him into silence but I understand, to a degree, why you made the choice you made given the circumstances,” Brienne finally settled on. It was the first time she actually acknowledged that it was Jaime’s choice, that what happened to Bran Stark was his decision. That he could have made a better choice but it was understandable why he choose what he did.

Jaime finally lifted his eyes to meet hers, relief flooding his face, not just for the fact she didn’t try to explain it away, not really, but for not placing blame on Cersei, for finally,  _ finally,  _ acknowledging that she wishes he had done something else but understanding why he did what he did to an extent.

She kissed the back of his hand again and gave him a soft smile that he returned with eagerness before they both turned back to their breakfast and the conversation lightened comsidersbly.  

After breakfast was finished they both dressed, him a soft blue velvet jerkin with waxing and waning moons on either side of the laces down the center and her in a leather crimson doublet with golden trim and twin lions on the long sleeves, dark red supple leather riding trousers and her hair not slicked back but loose in her face the way she knew Jaime liked most. When he saw her in her new House colors wearing her new sigil, not only was he close to tears but the way he looked at her she had a feeling he was about two seconds away from tearing off the outfit she had tailored in secret just for this reason. 

She had another Lannister ensemble being made without his knowledge as well, by the same septa who designed her wedding dress. The way that Sansa and Podrick kept looking at one another last night Brienne had a feeling she would be wearing it sooner rather than later…

After saying their goodbye to Joanna, Brienne and Jaime headed down to the stables to their horses already saddled and ready to go.

“Where are you taking me?” Brienne asked after a spell, unable to hide her smile as they rode side by side out of Sunrise.

“It’s a surprise,” he answered with a grin. “The foreman told me about it.”

“Ser Ronald?”

“Mmm hmm. He’s a decent man once you get past the… bluntness.”

Brienne laughed. She knew all too well about the weathered hard man who headed up the operations of the southernmost mine on the island, the one all the lord’s of Tarth spent a year of their lives working out of. 

He was course, blunt, loud and treated the highborn Lord who rode back and fourth to Evenfall five days a week working under him no different than the fisherman’s bastard who wanted steady feed and a straw filled bed in the barracks. He was the first to arrive in the mine in the morning, the last one to leave at night and would always make sure his youngest and least experienced workers got first dibs come meal time. 

Ronald told Brienne on her first day that he wouldn’t be giving her a break just because she was a woman much less the Lady of Tarth. If she didn’t make her quota or complained, her punishment would be same as any other man, “tits and cunt be damned,” he warned, spitting out a hunk of sour leaf near her boot. 

The first few weeks you worked in the marble mines you were expected to cut four blocks a day. Brienne cut through eight and a half her first shift and her numbers only grew from there. He didn’t say another word about her not expecting leniency after that and told her she was the first highborn who worked under him that he actually wanted to stick around after her year was up. 

On Jaime’s first day he managed one and a half blocks and when Ronald shouted at him for ‘high born laziness’ and threatened to take a switch to him, same as he would any other miner who was that far behind, Jaime didn’t utter a word and instead just raised the stump that the foreman hadn’t noticed and went back to work, staying at the mine until midnight so he could get his four blocks cut, with Ser Ronald awake by his side the whole time, offering him a place in the barracks so he wouldn’t have to ride down the mountain in the dark when he was finally done. The next morning Ronald told him since he only had one hand to work with he was fine with two blocks and Jaime met his quota each and every day after that.

He also, apparently, gave excellent romantic advice.

“I asked him for the most romantic spot on the island and he told me it was about a half day’s ride from Evenfall,” Jaime explained. “That’s where we’re going.”

“Jaime I don’t think the man has ever looked twice at a woman,” Brienne told him skeptically. She was answered with a shrug. 

“If it’s not what he promised then at least we got to spend the day together out of the castle. But I want it to be a surprise so ignore the direction we’re going because more then like you’ve already been here before.”

She did as he asked and they spent the next few hours alternating between comfortable silences and Brienne telling him the lore and histories of the small hamlets and villages they passed through. Around midday they stopped near a small stream to water their horses and had a small lunch of crusty bread, hard cheese, figs and dates and a sweet pear brandy that Jaime packed them. Brienne leaned up against his chest and he had his arm wrapped around her waist while they ate. Afterwards they saddled their horses back up and were on their way again. It wasn’t until an hour or so passed when she realized they hadn’t passed a village or city in a while and the sounds of waterfalls were getting louder and louder and soon they were both standing at the foot of a white rushing waterfall called Stefan’s Tears, named for a prince of Tarth who threw himself from the top of the falls after his young lover was murdered by pirates.

He flinched when she told him the names orgain. “That’s fairly macabre,” Jaime muttered, now looking a lot less confident about his plan then he had moments ago. “But since we’re already here…” He clicked his tongue, spurring his horse on and Brienne followed him. He led her right besides the falls, the white mist spraying them with cold water, and then with a small jump he disappeared behind the falls. Brienne took a deep breath and followed him with a graceful leap from her mare, the water soaking her to her skin.

“Jaime?” she called out as she was plunged into darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. She passed by the falls a handful times but she never knew there was a whole cave behind the water. 

“Hang on,” he answered and a moment later a torch was lit. The cave was dark and high and deep as well. Jaime was grinning as he removed one of the saddlebags from his gelding. He motioned the aloftmotioned torch towards a passageway at the end of the chamber, barely wide enough to a man to walk through in single fine so they would need to leave their mounts here. “Shall we, My Lady?” 

_ If this is Ser Ronald’s idea of romantic, small wonder he never married _ , Brienne thought as she followed Jaime down the narrow passage, looking around and finding nothing but dark stone walls. The sounds of the falls eventually fell away and Brienne was just about to suggest they turn back the passage opened up to another large cavern.

“Close your eyes,” Jaime instructed her and she did so without complaint, but with heavy curiousity. It seemed to take forever but finally Jaime told her to open her eyes and when she did her breath was stolen from her and all previous complaints or doubts faded from her mind.

“Oh Jaime…” she gasped, looking around the chamber in awe. 

Lit torches dotted the walls bathing the cavern in soft flickering firelight and a small fire sat in the center of the cavern.  What has previously just been dark stone was now a wall of small beautiful exquisit blue crystals, the same type Maestor Waldon wore around his neck except far smaller that went from floor to ceiling. They twinkled a deep blue in the torch light, giving the whole cavern the illusion that it was sparkling, covering the walls, the floor and even them with brilliant blue reflections.

He had laid out a fur blanket besides the fire along with a bottle of sweet dornish wine and two glasses. 

He was watching her rather apprehensively. “So… do you like it?” 

“Jaime, its beautifu!” she breathed as she craned her neck to look up at the cavern. The blue crystals twinkled and winked with every movement. “I know some of the caves on Tarth birth these crystals but I never knew there was one that housed as many as this and never one’s that flicker like this,” she admitted. “It’s gorgeous…”

He grinned before he walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist and she responded in kind by draping her arms around his neck.

“Are you happy?” His voice was so soft and sweet Brienne could barely stand it. 

“I am. More than I can ever say.”

“Good. Because all I want to do all day, every day, until the Gods decide to take me, is make you happy.” He stood on his tip toes and pressed his lips to hers. “I want you to smile every day.” His tender kisses moved behind her ear and a moan escaped her. “I want you to feel loved every day, I want you to feel beautiful every day, I want you to see yourself through my eyes every day…”

Every kiss was butterfly wings fluttering in the wind, every touch was as soft as a sigh, every word he whispered in her ear was tender as the Maidens heart, every deep stroke inside of her was a slow burning fire that kept her as warm as the inferno did that morning and afterwards.

Afterwards, as she laid sleeping in his arms with the warm furs covering them while the warmth of the fire bathed them in its heat, Brienne smiled in her slumber.

She smiled, and dreamt of a cub with a golden mane and blue eyes suckling at her breast…

 

Please Review!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not a lot of big things plot happening in this one but you’re getting lots of sweetness and smuttiness which is always nice lol. Next chapter is one I’ve actually been looking forward to writing for a while to the point I already have a large chunk of written and I can’t wait to share it with you guys.


	37. Chapter 37

“I hate the fucking North.”

“You’ve said that every ten minutes since we ported in White Harbor.”

“That should tell you just how much I hate the fucking North.”

Brienne chuckled as they made their way towards the large drab castle off in the distance. Jaime always found the great Northern keep boring with plain grey stone and nothing but snow during the winter and half dead grass as far as the eye could see in the summer but after a year in Tarth surrounded by flawless white marble, brilliantly blue waters and lush jade meadows, Winterfell wasn’t just boring; it was flat out dull.

But there was an ancientness to it that neither his new home on Tarth or his old home on Casterly Rock possessed even though the later was built only a few hundred years after Winterfell. Here there were Old Gods and old magic and even with the threat of the dead gone it made Jaime’s teeth chatter when the wind blew.

This was not his place. 

But when Brienne and him received an invitation to the Stark girl and Podricks wedding, he could scarcely tell her he didn’t want to go just because the region and the bride's family made him uncomfortable, not when he saw her teary-eyed smile as she read the ravens message.  He vowed to make her happy every day, going to Sansa and Podricks wedding would make her happy, so here he was, on a large grey plow horse, going back to Winterfell for the third time in his life, and hoping for a happier ending than the last.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to complain occasionally though, but seeing as how Brienne had been feeling nauseous pretty much since they left the Tarth port, he kept the grumbling to a minimum. Although, and he wasn’t sure if it was the crisp Northern air or the ginger root he bought for her in White Harbor, as the day went on she did seem to perk up slightly. So as she got better, the complaints were uttered more frequently.

When they finally arrived at the gates Brienne was greeted warmly by the guards, and Jaime was given a cold look and a muttered ‘Lannister’, unfriendly eyes screaming the same thing they screamed when he came to Winterfell on the eve of battle.

The North remembers.

Jaime frowned as he looked around the courtyard that was bustling and busy with lords and ladies, squires and servants running around to and fro to prepare for the big night. Hateful memories came rushing back of his wife, his pregnant wife, sobbing and begging him to stay. He had been cruel, unkind, angry at her for challenging what he believed about himself and the last thing he saw in this bloody gateway was her crying as he went off on a suicide mission to save a woman he thought was hateful. He stole a look at Brienne who was glancing around the courtyard as well, a sadness in her eyes that told him her memories of this place were just as fresh and sour as his. 

When a stable boy rushed forward and helped them dismount Jaime wasted no time in wrapping his arms around Brienne, and she in turn buried her face in his neck, embracing him as they both tried to rid themselves of their last moments of this place. Jaime took her face in his hands, flesh and steel alike (he was not about to let a Northman much less a Stark see his stump, no matter how uncomfortable the blue and crimson colored prosthetic was to wear after almost two years of going without) and leaned up on his tip toes so he could kiss her forehead.

“You okay?” he asked her softly so that only she could hear him. Brienne nodded, bringing her hand up and stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. He kissed her again and when they both turned back towards the castle Jaime let out an audible groan. “We could say the boat never arrived,” he muttered. “We got stuck in the Straits of Tarth, there was a hurricane, the Night King came back-.”

“Brienne!” 

The two of them turned towards the caller to see Sansa hurrying from outside the castle gates. Brienne smiled as the wolf wrapped her long slender arms around the knight in a rare show of affection and any complaints died on his tongue as Jaime watched her. 

Brienne's smile was well worth the occasional icy glare for a few days.

“It’s good to see you, My Lady,” Brienne told her once they released the warm embrace. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get here sooner, we had some rough waters coming up the narrow sea.”  _ That and she promised me I wouldn’t have to spend anymore time than necessary with these people.  _ “And I’m sorry Joanna couldn’t make the trip but she’s still too young to travel this far north. But I’m so happy to see you.”

“And I as well. I apologize for not being able to stay long but there’s still mountains to do before tonight, I just needed to say hello.”

“I understand perfectly, My Lady. Do you know where Podrick is? I’d like to say hello while I have the chance.”

“Of course, he’s with Tommy in the tonsorial parlor.”

“Thank you, My Lady.”

Sansa gifted the tall knight another rare smile, smooth delicate hands grabbing rough and calloused one’s. “I’m so happy you’re here. It wouldn’t have felt right without you. You’re the reason we came together in the first place, you’re the reason I’m even alive right now. I owe everything to you.”

Brienne blushed and bowed her head. “Thank you, My Lady. But you’re strong, you have your own sort of womanly courage, you would have survived on your own. I know you would have. And when two people are meant to be, the Gods have ways of bringing them together.” She looked over at Jaime. The soft smile on her plump lips made him want to melt into the snow.  _ Definitely worth it…  _ “No matter how many times they have to work their magic.”

After they brought the trunks that had followed them from White Harbor on a small liter up to Brienne's old chambers, she went down to meet up with Podrick in the barbers shop while Jaime stayed in their room, building a billowing fire he knew Brienne would want to sit in front of the moment she returned. 

Jaime had just placed the last log into the fireplace when there was a knock on his door and when he answered, a messenger told him that he was needed by the broken tower. He bit back a groan, knowing there was only one person who would want to speak to him in this part of the country at that particular spot but rather than voice his complaints, he dressed himself in his thickest furs and heaviest velvets and made his way towards the place that started it all.

His heart was pounding as he approached the abandoned tower. It looked the same as it ever did, overgrown with vines and crumbling mortar and stone. It was far enough away from the main castle so the sounds of Winterfell were nearly drowned out, an eerie silence screaming at him as Jaime made his way around to the back of the stone where Bran was waiting for him. 

The boy looked up at Jaime with calm, unnerving eyes, no discernible expression on his face, everything about him was unreadable. 

The wind blew, and Jaime shuddered. 

“You’ve returned,” Bran said simply. 

He nodded. “I have. Your sister, she sent me and Brienne an invitation to the wedding…” He swallowed his nerves. “Did you see us coming? In a vision?”

Bran stared at him for a moment before he held up the RSVP he and Brienne sent back weeks ago.

“...Ah. Yes, that- Okay.”

Jaime turned his gaze up at the tower if not for anything to do but look away from the boy he crippled. He took a deep breath, running his hand against the warm dark fur of his cloak. “I… I feel like… like I owe you another apology. I told you I wasn’t the same man who pushed you out of that window anymore but-.”

“But you went back to your sister,” Bran finished for him, emotionless. “You left the woman you hated then grew to love for the woman you loved then grew to hate.”

Jaime bowed his head before he turned back to face the young wolf. “I did.”

“You were protecting your sister and your child.”

He was about to ask him how he could have possibly known Cersei was pregnant when he remembered who he was talking to. “I know I was but I really thought I had changed.”

A hard lump formed in his throat that he had to clear away.

“You had changed,” Bran assured him. “You just weren’t done.”

Jaime offered him a weak smile that, predictably, he didn’t return. “Am I done changing now?”

“You are. You finally realize you’re not good, or bad, you’re Jaime. Just Jaime.”

He held back a shudder as his own words were thrown back at him, words Bran had no business knowing. “Brienne helped me realize that.”

“She’s a good woman.”

Jaime smiled and gave a small nod of agreement. “The best.” He took another deep breath before he asked something they had been on his mind for over two years. Something that had been bothering him for awhile, something that he couldn’t shake ever since they first spoke in the Godswood. “You told me the last time we spoke that I wouldn’t be able to help the north win if you told the truth. But I hardly did anything, any man could have led the defense of the castle walls.”

“Is that why you think I spared your life?” Bran asked, as plain spoken as ever. “So you could tell a few archers to fire?”

“Well… yes.”

“Any other man could have done that,” he agreed. “But no other man would have thrown themselves into a pile of the dead to save one woman. No other man would have stayed by one woman’s side the whole fight protecting her. If you were executed for what you did to me, Brienne would have been dead in the first wave of the attack, her future child nonexistent. In this regard you’re right. There are no men like you.”

Jaime furrowed his brow at the young man. “So… so I-... you spared me to save Brienne? Why? I- I mean I’m forever grateful but-.”

“I spared you because Joanna needed to exist,” he answered. “Without her, the Dragon Queen would have taken up where the Nightking left off. The world would sing a song of fire rather than ice but it would sing it all the same… It was her birth that birthed the lie that spurred your brother on to end her reign.”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Bran had spared him so that Brienne could get pregnant. He had known all that would happen, he let it happen. 

“You… you knew Brienne would lie to Daenerys.”

“I did.”

“You knew she’d give birth in the bathhouse, you knew-...” His stomach twisted into a knot and the meal he ate on the road turned into a hard slab in his stomach. If Bran knew about the lie that would make Tyrion act...

“You knew what would happen to Brienne...” he muttered, more to himself than Bran. A fierce growling lion hungry for blood roared to life inside him. Jaime reached out and grabbed by the tunic, snarling at the boy. “You knew what that Dothraki would do to her!” he roared. “You knew what he would do and you did NOTHING! 

Bran didn’t even blink much less flinch. 

“You could have stopped it!” Jaime yelled in his unnervingly unmoving face. “You could have saved her, you could have saved everyone! Brienne was almost raped, my daughter was almost killed, Cersei WAS killed, thousands of men, women and children burned alive and you did  _ NOTHING _ !”

He was eerily calm and Jaime’s anger grew. He wanted the wolf or raven or whatever the hell he was to be afraid or feel guilty or ANYTHING but this seemingly uncaring unfeeling entity before him. 

“If Cersei didn’t die quickly under the castle and Daenerys prevailed,” Bran began as calm as a stillpond. “Your sister, your child and you would have been burned alive, slowly, the same way Lord Rickard was.” 

Jaime remembered the smell of the Northman’s burning flesh, the way he screamed as he roasted alive inside his armor, the way his armor grew red hot over the flames, Targaryen red, and he shuddered. 

“She would have covered the earth in ash and choked the world in smoke,” he continued. “If Daenerys was stopped before she burned Kingslanding, Cersei would have put every Northman, every one of the freefolk, every Ironborn, every Dornishman, every Dothraki and Unsullied and everyone in the reach to the slaughter. A hundred year war would have torn Westeros apart. She would have had you watch as the Mountain raped and mutilate Brienne beyond recognition before she gave the order to murder her and your child. Fifty thousand Kingslanding citizens for millions and millions of lives… I made the right choice not to interfere.”

Jaime hated how much sense he was making. He hated how he rationalized the deaths of fifty thousand men, women and children but fifty thousand vs millions and millions, including Brienne and Joanna… “But Raeko…” Jaime reminded him, unwilling to let his anger go on this front. “You could have warned her. You could have stopped him.”

“The past and present is written in stone,” Bran told him. “The future… Sometimes the future is crisp and clear as a winters breeze. Sometimes it’s a foggy shadow of a ravens scroll. Flashes of things that haven’t happened or might happen, all of them happening all at once or none at all, happening a thousand years from now while castles crumble into dust or the length of time it takes to gasp a dying breath.”

“Quit speaking in riddles, Stark.”

“I’m no longer a Stark,” Bran reminded him. “And I’m speaking in truths.” He looked up at Jaime, cold brown eyes unsettling him. “I saw her attacked by the Dothraki moments before it happened. I didn’t know what was happening. Not until it was too late.”

“But would you have stopped it? If you could have? Your sister’s protector, a good and honorable woman, a pregnant woman… would you have stopped him if you saw it weeks before?”

Bran was silent for a long moment, staring off in the distance as an icy wind whipped around them. Finally he turned towards Jaime.. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I like to think I would have.”

The last of the ire and anger melted away like snow in the summer. The two of them gazed back up at the tower and after a while Bran spoke again. “I needed to fall,” he told him. “I needed to fall so I could fly, and I needed to fly so the world could defeat the threat of fire and ice.” The raven looked up at the lion. “I thank you, Jaime Lannister of Tarth. For helping me fly.”

Sensing the end of the conversation Jaime bowed his head and started to walk away, turning back when Bran called out to him. 

“Tonight you will realize something she’s regularly used will be rendered useless for a time,” he told Jaime, as cryptically and bluntly as the rest of his words but, Jaime would swear as he headed back to his chambers, he almost saw a shadow of a smile on Brans face…

He met Brienne walking back to their chambers. The great hall was still being set up for tonight and the kitchens were just as busy so as they were making their way to the armory to pick up a bow so she could shoot them some lunch, Brienne stopped suddenly beside him and a look of sheer and utter annoyance darkened her features. 

“What?” asked Jaime as he looked around the courtyard. “What’s going on?”

Then he saw them. A group of Wildlings laughing uproariously outside the armory and drinking from ale horns. And if the freefolk had been invited, it must have meant that-.

“MY BIG WOMAN IS BACK!”

_ Fan-fucking-tastic. _

Brienne closed her eyes, barely managing to hold back a look of disgust as Tormund raced over to her, wrapping her in a large bear hug. She grimaced, keeping her arms at her side as his boomed his loud laughter, practically shaking the tall knight.

“Hello, Tormund,” she said stiffly once he let her go.

His blue eyes, light and pale like ice and a world of difference from Brienne's deep blue sapphires, shined with raucous joy and lust. 

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, She Knight,” he grinned, not taking her annoyance as anything but something he had to work around. “They don’t make them like you up north.”

Jaime shifted guiltily in the snow.

_ I should have thought to knight her before this idiot brought it up… she deserved it the day I sent her to find Sansa.  _

“I wish I could say the same,” she said dryly.

Rather than be deterred, Tormund laughed again, loud and booming, slapping her hard on the shoulder and would have made a less surefooted woman stumble. The mirth in his eyes died when he finally noticed the long scar on her face. A blush crept into her cheeks as she bowed her head, failing to use her short hair to cover any part of it no matter how many times she tried to pull it over.

“What happened, She Knight?” he asked, gaping at the mark. 

“It’s nothing,” she muttered, turning her face away from him. “I’d really rather not talk about it.”

Tormund looked between Jaime and Brienne, narrowing his eyes and glaring at the man only the wildling considered a rival. “Did the King Killer do this?”

“Excuse me?” Jaime barked as Brienne shook her head frantically.

“No, no he didn’t, at all,” she said quickly. Tormund still eyed Jaime with a glower but he did soften a hair. “My Lord Husband is the one who actually let me get justice against the man who did.”

Jaime barely concealed his smirk as Tormund's face fell, glancing between the two of them. “You… you’re married?”

“Happily,” she added. “Our daughter is turning one in three weeks actually.”

Jaime almost swore he saw the wildlings eyes grow damp. “You broke my heart before, She Knight, and now you’re doing it all over again.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said, not sounding sorry in the least. “But there was never any sort of chance between us, even without Ser Jaime in the picture.”

Tormund bowed his head before he picked it back up, raising a bushy brow in what Jaime assumed he meant to be seductive but Brienne just grimaced. “Ya know, in the North, the  _ real _ North, if a man wants a woman, he steals her.” He took almost a comically swaggering step towards Brienne and she and Jaime just looked at one another before turning back towards him. “It shows her how strong he is, that he can get her away from her people and back to his home. Some give in. Some fight. If she’s already claimed, the man might fight for her. Some win.” Tormund looked down at the steel hand before he looked back up at Jaime who just raised a brow at the red haired man. “Some lose.”

“If anyone wanted to ‘steal me’, though he’d be more than happy to, I assure you I wouldn’t need my husband to geld the man who tried,” Brienne said hotly.

Tormund was silent for a moment before he threw his head back and laughed. “Gods you were born on the wrong side of the wall, She Knight! You’re a gigantic waste of women on these warm blooded southern twats!” 

He slapped her on the arm again then, shaking his head, he made his way over to the group of wildlings.

“You know,” Jaime mused when they were finally alone. “I do believe I’ve lost my appetite…”

They spent the rest of the day away from the loud busy hustle in their chambers, talking, smiling, laughing and Jaime noticed, in the glow of the firelight, her face had begun to glow as well… Finally the sun went down, and then it was time to get ready. Jaime dressed himself in a quartered red and blue leather doublet with yellow suns and golden lions, lined with velvet for warmth, and a heavy fur cape colored blue with a silvery white crescent moon on the back, held together with a crescent moon clasp.

Brienne dressed in another room, she said she wanted to surprise him, and it was almost time to head down to the Godswood, the door to their chambers opened and Jaime turned to look at her. When she stepped into the room Jaime suddenly forgot how to breathe.

Brienne was dressed in a crimson gown of soft velvet with a wire gold lion on the bodice. The long draping sleeves were lined with golden fur as was the bottom of the skirt and a twisted gold chain dotted with rubies hung around her long pale neck. A heavy blood red cloak that swept the floor was clasped around her neck as well with a golden lion broach holding it in place. The gown dipped slightly in the front, showing off a hint of bosom (was he imagining things or were they bigger than normal?).

“Do you like it?” she asked him, voice full of nerves, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles. “If you don't, it's fine, I- I just thought… the Lady of Winterfell is getting married, so I thought this would be more appropriate than what I might- I might normally wear…”

Once Jaime remembered to breathe he walked over to her without a word and took her in his arms before he kissed her, groaning when she all but purred into her mouth.

“I thought you said you were going to wear the blue dress, the one with the moons?” Jaime asked once they reluctantly pulled apart. 

She smiled at him, relief flooding her features. “I lied.”

“The Northmen won’t like this,” he breathed, unwilling and unable to resist looking over her. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply. The scent of her perfume, a distinct Westerland scent she had gotten as a gift from Jaime, made his cock jump to attention.

She took his face in her hands and made him look at her. “I’m a Lannister. I’m proud of my husband’s house, of my husband’s colors, of my husband’s sigil, and of my husband…” She brushed her crimson painted lips against his. “The Northmen can fuck off.”

He was right, but thankfully most of the Northern Lords and Ladies in attendance knew what exactly Brienne could do to them if they commented or even started to long so they all kept their opinions to themselves. Arya, standing besides a shivering Gendry who had wrapped himself so thick in furs that he looked three times his normal size, raised a brow at the unashamedly Lannister ensemble and snickered but Brienne just held her head high, took Jaime’s arm, greeted her with a respectful nod and  ‘My Lady’ and walked with him to the front of the gathered group.

There were a number of black iron posts holding fire lit lanterns that made a path to the large white Weirwood Tree but other than that, there was no pomp, no circumstance, no flowers or draped silk among the pews… Even the guests voices seemed heavy and hushed, much less joyful and jubilant than a southern wedding for the Lady of a Great House. 

Bran stood,  _ sat? _ besides a nervous Podrick, who wore a handsome velvet tunic of checkered purple and white with gold circles in each one, and a long heavy fur cloak in snowy white with purple trim, held on with a snarling steel Direwolf broach, with Arya standing behind him, both of them dressed similarly in grey and black furs and leathers. Podrick glanced over at them and caught Brienne's eye, relief flooding him like melting snow as she smiled at him and gave him a nod of encouragement. 

Brienne and Jaime heard the crunch of feet on snow and they, along with the rest of the gathered men and women, turned towards the darkness and then, stepping into the soft glow of the lanterns, there she was.

Beautiful was too mild a word for what Sansa was. She was stunning . Regal, ethereal, a true winter rose that wars were fought over and men would gladly die for.

Her long sleek red hair was pulled back into an elegant tight updo, and her dress was a long sleeved ivory colored gown with cream colored Tully scales on the bodice. The neckline and the bottom of the bell style skirt was lined soft grey fur, and a pale grey fur cloak that swept the floor draped around her shoulders. Everything about it was was simple yet somehow otherworldly beautiful at the same time. 

She was on Jon’s arm, who dressed himself in a handsome but plain black leather doublet with the fierce direwolf of House Stark embroiled on the front, a long heavy black cape lined with grey fur around his shoulders, holding a lantern up so that he might light the way before them.

_ If there were any doubts I’m not of the North this seals the deal… This isn’t my place, _ Jaime thought wearily as he watched the bride and king make their way through the path of lanterns, shuddering as an icy wind whipped around them and whistled through the trees. 

As somber as the occasion seemed, as heavy as the silence in the Godswood was, Jaime saw a smile on the red headed wolfs face, the first time she wore one when she walked down the aisle. He looked at Podrick, who had much less experience in pompous circumstances, whose fretted nerves had faded and he was now beaming as bright as the lanterns besides him and unable to take his eyes off his tall bride. 

When Jon and Sansa neared the large Weirwood, Arya pushed Bran forward. “Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” the strange boy asked. The black haired man took a few steps to meet his younger brother.

“Sansa, of House Stark, the Lady of Winterfell, comes here to be wed,” Jon replied. “A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the Gods.”

_ Hopefully they’ll bless her more than they did her first two marriages… _

“Who comes to claim her?” the king asked, and Podrick took a deep breath before he took as bold a step as Jaime ever seen before towards her. 

“Ser Podrick of House Payne,” he announced to the congregation. “A knight of the Seven Kingdoms. Who gives her?”

“His Grace, Jon Snow, the first of his name. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Who is, now and always, her father’s son,” Jon said as proud as any Northerner had a right to be.

Jaime saw both Sansa and Arya smile at the proclamation, for some reason, and Bran turned towards her older sister. “Lady Sansa; will you take this man?”

She took several steps forward. “I take this man,” Sansa said at once with a strong clear voice. Jaime had to bite back a laugh when he saw how wide Podricks smile grew. 

He turned towards the man beside him. “Ser Podrick; will you take this woman?”

“Yes! I- I mean I do, I take this woman,” he managed to soft laughter from the guests. Sansa melted at the fumbling, looking the part of the love-struck young girl she was supposed to be before his family had ruined everything.

Even Arya was smiling now but it was gone almost as soon as it happened. 

“If you have spoken true,” Bran continued, as somber as ever. “You may kneel before the Old Gods and beg for their blessings.”

Sansa took Podricks arm and the two of them walked up to the large white heart tree and kneeled before it, bowing their heads while the rest of the audience bowed in prayer as well. Jaime raised his brow but when he saw Brienne follow suit he closed his eyes and lowered his head. 

_ Please let this girl be happy _ , he asked the Old Gods, the Father, the Mother, the Maiden and all the rest.  _ Let her finally know love and peace. She deserves it after all my family put her through. They both do. Let them be as happy as Brienne and I. _

After a minute or so he heard Bran speak again and Jaime along with the rest of the audience lifted their heads and opened their eyes. “May the Old Gods heed your prayers,” he told them and they both raised, smiles on both their faces as they turned to one another. “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Podrick quickly unfolded the purple and white checkered cloak that he had draped across his arms and wrapped it around her shoulders. He looked towards Bran, practically bursting with anticipation. “Now?”

There was another round of laughter from the gallery, and Bran gave a curt nod to his new good-brother. “Now.”

Without wasting another moment Podrick took Sansa in his arms and dipped her low, kissing her good, and kissing her long to the melody of applause and cheering of the watching northern lords and the two southern knights. 

Jaime realized why Northern wedding ceremonies were so somber and quiet. It was so they could rest up for the feast afterwards. 

Loud music, louder laughs in the Great Hall that was full to bursting not only of the lord’s and ladies who attended the ceremony but some of the small folk, Winterfell's workers, the knights of the Vale (little Robin Arryn kept glowering at Brienne until Lord Royce snacked the lord outside his ear and apologized to her for his behavior and thanked them for the marble), northern soldiers, one or two Wsatlanders, distant cousins of Sansa and Podrick, the Freefolk…

They were served thick beef stew, honey roasted chicken and caprons, platters of ribs crusted with garlic and herbs that fell off the bone, roast yellow turnips swimming in butter and pepper, and slabs of venison with thick brown gravy and mushrooms overtop. When a large platter of lemon cakes were brought out Jaime looked up at the high table where the bride and groom sat and watched as Sansa and Podrick took turns feeding one another bites until the bride accidentally smashed a piece in his face. Before she could apologize, Podrick took her in his arms and kissed her, getting the yellow cake on her face as well. Jaime smiled at the sounds of the young girl’s laughter and turned back to Brienne who was also looking up at the two of them with a proud and happy smile on her face.

The wine and ale continued long after the food had been cleared away and the longer the night went on, the louder the men laughed. Brienne choose water infused with Dornish lemons and cane sugar, “the wine doesn’t agree with me,” she said after taking a few sips of the red vintage before pushing it away, but even without the alcohol the mood in the air was infectious and she laughed just as loud as all the rest and even joined in when the hall erupted in a rousing rendition of ‘Bear and the Maiden Fair’, her and Jaime grinning at each other in a knowing way the whole time.

When Jon announced it was time for the bedding, Jaime watched as a group of Northern men who, he noticed, managed the most respectful bedding he had ever witnessed as they hoisted an amused Sansa on their shoulders, shouting loud and bawdy jokes as per usual but without undressing her. Then Podrick came next, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling women who were eagerly tearing at his clothes, but the new Warden of the North only had eyes for the red head several feet in front of him, mouthing ‘you alright?’ every so often at his bride who assured she was with a rare smile and a nod.

When they disappeared Jaime turned to Brienne and wrapped his arms around her, grinning.

“Ya know,” he purred at his lioness, nuzzling at her neck and drawing forth a moan.  “What do you say we go upstairs and do our own bedding?”

Brienne was just about to agree when her sheepish grin disappeared into one of annoyance, one she reserved only for-.

“MY SHE KNIGHT!”

_ Go. Away. _

Tormund all but collapsed onto the table, thick unruly red beard dripping with ale, fire kissed hair unkempt and reeking of ale and wine, hardly able to stand.

“She Knight!” Tormund roared in a barely legible slur, grabbing hold of her shoulder and using her to hoist himself up. “We- I- I you are the biggest fucking woman I’ve ever seen!”

“That’s not exactly the compliment you think it is,” she said dryly.

“We could make MONSTER babies with you!” he shouted, taking a long drink from his horn and spilling half of the ale on his furs. “They’d take over the world!”

“I’m very good with the child I have.”

Tormund shook his head, sweat and spit and ale flying everywhere. “My big woman, my she knight, you don’t-... I would- I could… I could devir- devirginize you!”

“You could WHAT?!” Jaime snapped while Brienne's eyes went wide with shock at the sheer audacity.

He splashed his ale horn around again and laughed as if he said the funniest thing he had ever heard.  “I could, I could-...” Tormund grabbed hold of her shoulder again but this time Jaime threw it off. The wildling barely noticed. “You- you and I- you could sleep the sleep of the- The happily drunk! And the de-... the dev-... the devirginized! And then you could fucking-! I’m going to throw up and piss myself now…” he muttered as if he suddenly remembered that urgent fact.

Jaime twisted him around and pointed towards the nearest exit. “Not on her, and outside.”

“I- I will go, King Killer.” He slurred his words so heavily it was all Jaime could do to understand him. “But because I want to! Not because of a southern SHIT like you! COME ON EVERYONE!” he roared to the cheering of the other thoroughly inebriated wildlings. “WE’RE GOING OUTSIDE!”

“It’s a mystery how I ever won your heart when the likes of him were competing as well,” Jaime mused and Brienne rolled her eyes to the ceiling, both of them looking after the wild haired wildling stumbled to the aforementioned outside.

“You didn’t win anything.”

“I didn’t?”

“No.” She turned back to face him. “Because that would imply there was ever any competition between you two in the first place.”

Jaime smirked before he took hold of her hand and led her away from the feast and up to their chambers. Once inside the privacy of her room Jaime pushed her back against the door, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss while she worked on getting the steel prosthetic off. When she finally managed all the straps and hinges, she brought the ugly scarred stump to her lips and gave it a kiss as soft and tender as the sigh of a butterflies wings.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, gently rubbing the skin where it had turned red and raw from chafing.

“A little,” he admitted. 

“I packed some lotion in the trunk just for this reason actually, you want me to get it?”

“I got it.” He leaned up on his toes and pressed his lips against hers. “You get the fire going, and then whatever small clothes you’re wearing take them off.” He bit the fleshy part of her ear lobe and she let out a soft groan. “I’m going to fuck you while you wear that dress,” he growled, pulling away before she could seek revenge of relief.

Jaime smirked as he kneeled before the chest and began to look through her meticulously packed trunk for the lotion she mentioned. He set aside one of her her tunics and he came across a small bundle of clean unused cotton strips she used for her moon blood. Jaime turned the package over in his hand, brow furrowed and mind whirling. She should have been out of them by now but… come to think of it, Jaime didn’t remember boiling water to put in a wineskin that would have helped with her cramps this past week, nor has she asked for any of the crystallized sugar pineapples he had packed just for this occasion.

“Brienne?”

“Hmm?”

He stood up from the trunk, still looking down at the thick white cotton strips. “Today’s the twenty third right?”

“It is.” She stood up from the floor, wiping the ash from her hands. “Why do you ask?”

“You had your moon blood last week right? After we docked in White Harbor?”

Brienne opened her mouth, presumably to assure him she had when she closed it again. “I… I didn’t actually.”

His mind whirled again. Surely she must have… Although come to think of it he couldn’t remember the last time he brought her a cup of hot tea while she laid in bed or the last time he drew her such a scalding bath her skin turned a faint shade of red as she sighed in relief when she sank into their blue marble tub. It had to have been the month prior, right?

His heart was pounding hard against his ribs. It took everything in him to keep breathing. “You… you had it last month right?”

“I don’t- I don’t think so,” she answered, her voice hitched and wet with tears. “No I didn’t. Jaime, I-...”

He looked back down at the cotton strips still in his hand. The youngest Stark boys words were screaming at him, echoing louder than the rest of his shouted frantic thoughts. 

_ Tonight you will realize something she’s regularly used will be rendered useless for a time. _

Brienne looked down at her flat stomach, bringing shaking hands up and embracing her belly, wet eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Brienne…” Jaime breathed, a beaming smile as bright as the dawn making it way to his lips, tears of joy gathering in his eyes. “Brienne, you… you’re pregnant.”

She whipped her head up, tears streaming down maimed and smooth cheek alike, expression clouded with shock then slowly giving way to elation and joy and wonder. “I’m pregnant...” she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear before a laugh escaped her and her tears fell faster. “I’m pregnant!” 

“You’re pregnant!” he cried, hurrying over to her and wrapping his arms around her, kissing her fiercely as the salty taste of tears mingled together. She took his hand in hers and placed it on her stomach, grinning as wide as the wall with all the warmth of a Dornish sun.

“That’s your son,” she told him in a shaky whisper.

“That’s your son, Jaime.”

“My son?” 

Tears finally over spilled his eyes. He was going to have a little boy. An heir, someone to carry on the Lannister name, he was going to have a legacy…

Brienne nodded. She ran her hand through his hair as he embraced her stomach as tenderly as he dared. “Your son. Your little boy, a little lion named Lannister.”

He wrapped her in a tight embrace again, resting his head on her broad shoulder, his tears leaving tiny marks on the crimson velvet she wore but neither of them cared.

“We’ll do it right this time,” he promised, her voice as soft as a whisper. “I’ll be with you every day, you’ll get to celebrate him growing inside you, you won’t ever be scared for him, no one will threaten him, I swear it.” He kissed her lips, his her jaw, whenever he could reach. “I swear it, Brienne… My son… My son.” 

Brienne clutched as his shirt, leaning her forehead against his. “We’ll do it together,” she promised.

He smiled, setting his hand against her stomach that held his child. “Together…”

 

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	38. Chapter 38

“You’re being stubborn.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

Jaime raised a brow at what was supposed to be his bedridden wife who threw back a glare that was so sharp he could have shaved with it.

“I’m not being stubborn,” she insisted stubbornly, leaning back against the headboard. “Last pregnancy I swordfought literally up to the minute she was born and three minutes later I was fighting again. I can handle sitting at a table discussing politics.”

Jaime pulled the blankets over her before reaching behind her to fluff her pillow. “Waldon said the baby could come any day now. He wants you on bed rest and relaxing so that’s where you’re going to be. No more trips out to the courtyard to assist in training, no more counsel meetings…”

“I’m thirty six weeks along, that’s two weeks longer then when I had Joanna. If she was fine-.”

“Do you really wanna risk something happening just to be able to prove a point that you’ve made a hundred times?” Jaime laid his hand on her bulging stomach, caressing it as gentle as a summer breeze. “Do you really want to risk him?”

Brienne put her hand overtop his, resigned defeat in her eyes. “No,” she admitted, a truth Jaime already knew when he asked the question. “I just hate feeling useless.”

“You’re growing our child inside of you,” he reminded her. “You were ruling up until yesterday, you were training my squire up until two weeks ago...” Jaime bent down and pressed his lips to hers. “You are the least useless person I know.”

Smiling now, Brienne settled back into the soft pillows, grabbing a handful of blueberries from the glass bowl by her bed that she and Jaime always kept fully stocked. “We need to send a raven to-.”

“Gendry and Arya telling them that if Galladon is old enough to be left alone we’ll both be there for the nuptials, and if not it’ll just be me,” he said, the words bitter on his tongue.

“Gendry is our Liege Lord,” Brienne told him when they first received the invitation and Jaime wanted to chuck it into the fire. “Tarth is the Baratheons second biggest vassal. As Lord of Tarth, you HAVE to make an appearance.”

“Why don’t you have to go?” he whined. “You’re the actual Evenstar.”

“Because I don’t think it would be appropriate to show up in the Stormsend’s sept with a child suckling on my breast.”

Brienne ignored the grumbling over something they had argued about too many times before. “Yes, and we also need to send a raven to-.”

“Sansa and Pod congratulating them on the news of the future Lady or Lord of Winterfell.”

“Right. Also Ser Hugh-.”

“Received intel from across the narrow sea about a possible invasion. It’s likely just another unfounded rumor but we need to let Storms End know in any case, Brienne, I know.” He kissed her again. “Our island won’t slip beneath the waves while you’re on bedrest. Now lay back, and just-.”

“Mama! Papa!”

Grins broke out on both of their faces as their ajar door was pushed open and Joanna came waddling in as fast as her long legs could carry her, tiny hands stretched towards the sky. “Papa, up!” she told Jaime in no uncertain terms, who of course obliged immediately. 

Her straw colored curls, Tyrion's curls, was half pulled back with a dark blue ribbon and half flowing freely as if she had escaped mid-styling. She wore a bright crimson velvet dress with a lion sown on the front in golden beads with a bouffant style skirt, and one red shoe.

“Hello, my little love,” Brienne greeted her with a soft smile. 

“Hi, Mama.” Joanna pointed at her stomach. “Baby.”

“That’s your brother, Joanna,” Jaime told her. “That’s Galladon.”

She looked up at her father with big beautiful blue eyes. “Gall...” she mused, testing the word on her tongue. Joanna turned back towards Brienne and pointed at her stomach again. Her tiny little Lannister nose scrunched up as her plump lips formed a wide toothy smile. “Hi, Gall!”

Brienne chuckled and a moment later the door was flung open and Wylla stormed in, missing shoe in hand. Joanna whined and buried her face in Jaime’s shoulder but she couldn’t help the corner of her lips from tugging upwards.

“You, Little Lady, know better than to go running off like that,” Wylla chided the toddler as she took the small giggling girl from Jaime and set her on her hip. 

Joanna pointed at Brienne again. “Baby!”

“I’m well aware. But come on, your mum needs her rest.”

“Wylla,” Brienne called out to the nursemaid before she turned to leave. “It’s going to be a bit muggy today, could you dress her in trousers and a shirt rather than a dress?”

“No, Mama!” Joanna whined, pouting at the tall knight. 

“My love, you’re going to be so hot,” Brienne argued. “Can you please just wear something comfortable?”

“Nooo!”

Jaime snickered. “No idea where she gets this stubbornness from. Total mystery.”

Brienne spared her husband a glare before she turned back to Joanna who was still frowning and batting her long pale eyelashes. “Let her stay in the dress,” she finally conceded, defeat heavy in her sigh. Jaime had to bite back a laugh when Joanna let out a rather loud and excited cheer.

After Wylla disappeared with a smug looking Joanna in her arms, Brienne turned to Jaime frowning. “She’s going to be miserable in about an hour if she doesn’t change.”

“Then she’ll be miserable and learn a very important lesson about heeding her mother’s advice.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I need to go.”

“I know,” she said with a pout they made leaving all the more harder. Jaime kissed her again, and again, and then again until he remembered that she was supposed to be on bedrest and relaxing, not moaning softly into his mouth as he ran his fingers through her hair.

“Here,” he told her, reaching into the bedside drawer and pulling out a thick volume bound in handsome crimson leather and solid gold binding. “It was supposed to be a name day gift for Galladon but I figure you could use it while you were cooped up here.”

“ _The Histories and Songs of the Westerlands_ by Maester Tyrosh.” Brienne melted at the sight as she ran a hand over the golden lion on the cover. “Jaime, this is beautiful.”

“You think he’ll like it?”

“He’ll love it.” She pulled him down as to thank him properly. “And so do I.”

The rest of the day was slow going and ponderous, tedious and boring. Not for the politics, Jaime had no problem sitting in on meetings with his wife and Ser Hugh and Maester Waldon when they needed his military experience, but Brienne was always with him. Even when she was acting as the formal Evenstar and he was the Lord of Tarth and commander of their armies, the days passed quicker when she was around, and when they were alone the ice would melt away in rivers and they could sit and talk and laugh as husband and wife.

Now though all he had was Waldon and Hugh. 

He sent a heartfelt message from both him and Brienne to Sansa and Pod congratulating them on their future pup along with wishes of health and happiness, he sent a message to Gendry telling them the Lord and Lady of Tarth would be at the wedding if at all possible along with another letter telling Gendry they may have an eastern invasion on their hands if the scouts were correct but more than like was just rumors. After all that was done he headed out to the courtyard to spar with his squire, took his lunch with Brienne who was absolutely engrossed in the tale of the Westerlands histories, then headed out to the mines to check on a rather large order made by the Ruling Freedmen of Meereen (Tarth had refused to do business with the slaver cities for hundreds and hundreds of years, limiting itself to only trading with Braavos and Pentos when it came to transactions in the eastern continent. Now that slavery had, more of less, ended in the former slave cities, Jaime argued to a reluctant Brienne, it could open up a whole new market for their island. Sure enough when the sanctions were lifted, the orders came flying in from Astapor, Yunkai and Meereen for a piece of the seven kingdoms finest marble.).

By the time Jaime got back to the keep it was getting dark so he checked in on Joanna who was playing quietly with a small stuffed lion dressed in a knights finery, still wearing her velvet gown even though he could see the sweat stains under her arms, then fed his little cub her supper before bathing her and putting her to bed. After that he had a long meeting with Ser Hugh about a new warship they were building called _Selwyns Wrath,_ a barge that was twice as big as any they had on hand currently, as well as plans to reinforce the defenses on Evenfall just incase the rumors of an assault weren’t just rumors.

Finally, nearing midnight, he made his way to his chambers where Brienne had set the book aside and was sitting up, frowning at him and resting a hand on her stomach.

“What’s wrong?” Jaime asked as he hung up his rose colored traveling cloak and hurried over to her. “Brienne what happened?”

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just- I feel-… I feel off.”

“Are you in pain?” She shook her head. “Is the baby moving?”

“He is, I- I just-...” 

“Do you want me to go get Maester Waldon?”

She shook her head again. “No, I don’t… I don’t- I just feel like something’s wrong.”

Jaime could hear the frustration in her tone. He pressed his lips to her forehead, kicked off his boots, not even bothering with the rest of his clothes and got into bed beside her. “You’re just nervous,” he whispered softly. He wrapped his arm around her, tracing small circles on her swollen stomach. “You’re just nervous because of what happened last time but our son is safe, Brienne. He’s healthy, he’s fine, _you’re_ fine…” He buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Just relax, My Lady,” he whispered against her soft pale flesh. “Everything’s going to be fine…” 

Jaime managed to fight sleep until he felt her go slack in his arms. He took off his breeches and tunic and donned only a fresh pair of roughspun sleeping trousers before climbing into bed, sleeping claiming him within moments of wrapping his arms around her.

Jaime felt as if he had only been asleep for half a heartbeat when he was being violently shaken awake and the first thing he registered was the sound of Brienne sobbing. Not crying. Outwardly sobbing.

“Whaswrong?” he muttered as he sat up, vision blurry from sleep. “Whasgoinon?”

“There’s blood!” she cried, her words barely able to be understood through her heavy sobs. “Jaime, there’s blood!”

It took a moment to realize what exactly she was saying but the second he was able to comprehend her, he jumped out of the bed and threw the covers back, grateful that a fire were still burning high enough to let him be able to see.

There, between her legs and soaked through her sleep clothes, was a puddle of thin watery blood. 

“I’m sorry!” she sobbed, clutching at the white sheets beneath them. “Jaime, I’m- FUCK!” 

Jaime scampered out of bed and raced around to her side, grabbing her hand. He barely felt her bone crushing grip as she threw back her head, her scream cutting through him like valyrian steel.

“I’m sorry!” she wailed, tears streaming down her face, not releasing the ironclad grip she had on his hand . “Jaime I’m so sorry!” She threw her head back again and screamed and groaned and whimpered in pain, clutching at her swollen stomach with one hand and bearing down on the other.

The door slammed open and a serving girl was there, clutching her robe closed. “M’lady, wha-?!”

“Go get the maester!” Jaime barked.

“M’lord, I-.”

“GO!”

He barely heard the sound of running footsteps. He closes his eyes, willing his mind to slow, forcing his lungs to take a reluctant breath.

 _Lie!_ he screamed at himself, willing the panic from his expression as best he could. _Lie! This is supposed to be happy for her! You’re a Lannister, this is what you do best! Lie!_

“Brienne,” he said calmly but firmly. She hardly heard him over the sound of her tears. “Brienne, you need to listen to me, and you need to listen to me _now.”_

She choked back her sobs as she turned to face him. Brienne was frightened. More frightened then he had ever seen her…

His hand shook as he stroked her hair. “It’s not normal, but it’s not uncommon either to bleed during your second water breaking.”

“Re- really?” Her big blue eyes were full of tears and terror. 

Jaime nodded. “It happened with Myrcella, it happened with Rhaegar's son…” 

Her grip on his hand eased some, a thin shadow of fear melted from her eyes.

 _Yes. Please calm down. This is supposed to be happy for you… Please let it be happy,_ he begged the Mother, fighting the tears behind what he hoped was an easy smile. _Please don’t take our boy. Please._

He leaned over and pressed his lips against her forehead. “He’s going to be fine,” he promised. “Our cubs going to be fine…”

Brienne took a deep shaky breath and nodded. Rather she actually believed his lie or was desperate enough to force herself to believe he didn’t ask.

Waldon rushed in dressed in a thin white cotton nightdress, grey hair mussed and carrying his black Maesters bag.

“What happened?” he demanded, using that commanding voice Jaime heard that somehow eased his fears a touch.

“I- woke up wet and- and I - oh fuck!” she hissed, tightening her grip on Jaime’s hand as another wave of pain washed over her. 

Waldon looked at the red stained puddle between her legs. “Contractions?”

Once the pain had passed Brienne took a deep breath and nodded. “But- but there was- the waters- there’s blood.”

“But I already told her that’s fairly common for a second birth,” Jaime added quickly. 

The maester said nothing, didn’t even spare him so much as a glance. He pulled out a long glass vile with a soupy mud red liquid inside followed by a long needle that he plunged into the vile and filled halfway. 

“This is going to hurt,” Waldon warned her in the voice of a general caring for his soldier rather than the grandfatherly voice of a wizened maester before pushing her sleep dress up to her chest. There wasn’t even a faint hint of blush on his cheeks as his Lady laid bare before him with her legs open wide and her pale blonde curls stained red. “Brace yourself,” he told her, giving her a lone second to prepare before he plunged the needle into her womb.

Brienne screamed so loud her voice cracked. She arched herself off the bed as he pushed down on the plunger and the liquid disappeared inside her.

“Jaime!” she sobbed as she fell back onto the bed, barely flinching as the needle withdrew, gripping blindly for his hand that he grabbed with all his might. “Jaime, our son!”

“He’ll be fine, Brienne.  He’ll be fine, I know he will.”

_Please don’t take my cub._

Waldons hand disappeared between her legs for a moment before he gave a nod more to himself than to her or Jaime. “Lay back,” he told her. “Propped up on the pillows.”

Jaime helped her get into position as Waldon grabbed the chair from the desk and sat at the foot of her bed between her legs. He raised her long sleep shirt and then his hand disappeared between her legs. 

Brienne looked over at Jaime, blue eyed wet with tears. “I’m scared,” she admitted in a trembling voice. It was the second time in her life she ever told him that particular truth.

“Don’t be. He’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”

_Please don’t take my son._

“You’re almost fully dilated,” Waldon said, pulling his hand out from between her legs. “You must have started dilation before your waters broke, that’s why there’s blood.”

“Will he be okay?” Brienne asked, usually steadfast stoic voice soaked and dripping in fear.

Waldon rested a comforting hand on her knee. His fingers were stained crimson. “I’m going to do my best to make sure your son stays alive, My Lady.”

Brienne let out another sob that soon turned into a bitten back scream of pain, gnawing at her lip so hard she drew blood, clenching Jaime’s hand as hard as she could as if she was willing his life into the life inside her, and he would given it gladly.

“That dose I gave you should speed things along to get him out sooner,” Waldon told her but she barely heard it. “Any second now you’re going to have to push.”

Brienne hardly heard him. She hardly heard anything but Jaime whispering over and over that Galladon was safe, that their son was healthy, that she would live to hold him, that he would live to love her.

She groaned in pain, grabbing Jaime’s hand so hard he was pretty sure at least one of the bones were broken but he let her hold on as tight as she needed.

“Okay, Brienne,”  Waldon told her firmly. “I need you to take a deep breath, bare down and push when I tell you to alright?” She nodded, taking shaky short breaths. “Alright here we go… One, two, three; push!”

Jaime watched as Brienne grit her teeth and pushed, and pushed and pushed, biting back a scream all the while.

“You’re doing well,” the maester said with an encouraging nod of his head once Brienne had been given the order to relax for a moment. She fell back against the pillows, her face dripping with sweat and tears. “You’re doing really well, Brienne.”

“He’s gonna be fine,” Jaime kept whispering to her, over and over again and again. “I know he will…” He let out a shaky teary laugh. “At least there’s no siege this time…”

The look she gave him could have sent him to the grave. 

“When the next contraction hits, I need you to push again. You’re doing really well, My Lady.”

Brienne nodded, taking a deep breath, grabbing hold of Jaime’s hand and prepared herself, gasping and biting back another scream as the pain hit her again.

“Push!” the older man between her legs told her. “Brienne, push!”

“Come on!” Jaime encouraged her as she strained and gasped and pushed through the pain, wishing for more than anything he could take her place. “Come on, My Lady! Good girl, good girl!”

She fell back against the pillows again, taking loud gasps of breath that came rather reluctantly for only a moment before she flew back up again.

“It hurts!” she cried, tearing Jaime’s heart in two. _Why couldn’t the Gods make them share the responsibilities? Why couldn’t he carry his children for her?_ “Jaime, I can't push anymore!”

“I know, I know but you’re doing so well! You’re doing so well, one more okay?” Jaime told her as she groaned, shaking her head. “One more big push and we’ll have our son…” _And he’ll be alive and fine. He has to be. Please…_ Brienne took a deep breath and closed her eyes against her tears before she nodded. “Okay… okay, here we go. Push!”

She clenched her eyes shut and groaned and strained as she pushed and pushed and pushed, Jaime’s encouragements going in one ear and out the other. He held her hand and kissed her all the while until finally, Waldon pulled the babe from inside her and Brienne collapsed one final time against the pillows in tears.

“It’s a boy,” the maester announced, but Jaime could have cared less about the sex at that moment, or anything else, and Brienne voiced his reason why a moment later.

“Why isn’t he crying?” Her tears were streaming down her face, her expression one of absolute fear. Panic threatened to drown Jaime as Waldon took his son and hurried over to where the bag was. “WHY ISN’T HE CRYING?!”

Jaime bit back a sob as he wrapped his arms around Brienne, closing his eyes and bowing his head as tears finally made their way down his face.

 _Take my life instead,_ he begged the Mother, the Father, and all the rest. _Let him live. Don’t take him away from Brienne. Let my son live. I’ll go in his place, please. Please._

“Let him live,” he whispered against her hair, the silence coming from the babe as loud as a scream and the low mutterings from the Maester. “Let him live. Please… please… please.”

A tiny sputter, a single small gasp. The world seemed to stand still for an eternity and then, as loud as a lions roar, the infants cries filled the room.

His wife’s sobs turned to tears of joy and Jaime’s smile exploded on his face while he held her as tight as he could as he watched Waldon clean his son up. 

“Our son,” Brienne whispered through her tears as she nuzzled her head against Jaime. “He’s okay… he’s okay…”

Moments later, wrapped in a soft pale blue blanket, Waldon carried over the tiny baby and handed Brienne her newest cub who quieted down the moment he was in his mother's arms. Tears streamed down her face as she smiled down at him. 

“Hello, sweet boy,” she cooed at him. “Hello, Galladon. I’m your mother.”

Jaime laid his hand on the infants tiny head. “My son,” he breathed, tears falling down his face as Galladon blinked his eyes open and they found Brienne's face first and then Jaime’s. 

His soft pale yellow hair was a shade darker than Joanna’s had been at birth, and his eyes were a gorgeous dark deep blue with flecks of Lannister emeralds. He saw Cersei’s nose and his father’s ears and even Tommen's chin.

“This one’s all lion,” Brienne said with a soft smile as she ran her finger against her son’s silky smooth cheek. She turned to look at Jaime, her expression soft and sweet and beautiful. He kissed her, running his hand through her damp hair. “Thank you,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his. “For lying, for making me feel better, for being right, for giving me my son and my daughter...”

“You knew I was lying?” 

“You wouldn’t have looked so panic stricken if you saw it before.” 

Jaime chuckled softly, nodding and then kissing her again before they both turned back towards Galladon. “He’s perfect,” Jaime said, giving the newborn a finger to wrap his tiny little hand around. “Everything about him is perfect.” He kissed the side of her head again. “I love you, Brienne. So much.” Another kiss. “So much...”

Later on when things had calmed down and they changed the blood soaked sheets and he had his first feeding, Wylla carried in a drowsy but excited Joanna who pressed a kiss against her brother’s forehead and promise to love and protect him for as long as she lived. The small toddler fell asleep between Brienne and Jaime while the blonde knight held their sleeping content son in her arms and slumbered peacefully, a smile on her face as she slept.

As he stared down starry eyed at the babe in his mother’s arms and the toddler nestled between them and clinging to her father’s shirt, Jaime smiled.

This was everything he ever wanted. To be by laying beside the woman he loved, who accepted and loved him for everything he did and everything he was, a good honorable woman who loved every part of him, the good and the bad, who would never hurt him or ask him to hurt another. He had two happy healthy beautiful children named Lannister, children he could claim as his own without icy dirty looks, children he wouldn’t be terrified for everytime someone said they looked like Jaime. 

He was content and happy and best of all, he was glad to be living life. He woke up every day with a smile and a laugh on his lips wrapped in Brienne's embrace and he face would light up whenever his children called him ‘Papa’, a title he had earned after too much bloodshed and tears and sorrow. 

Jaime was happy. He was happy, happier than he had ever been before, and as the sun started to rise up above the horizon, while Joanna and Galladon began to stir, Jaime smiled, and hoped every day would start just as beautiful as this one had.

Please Review!


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. What a long strange trip it’s been. Like I’m just writing the author's notes and I’m already crying. I started this fic as a way to help cope with what happened after 8X05, because I couldn’t imagine a world where Braime didn’t get their happy ending, and I couldn’t accept that their story just ended with him dead in Cersei’s arms. What I didn’t know, is that so many others would find solace in this fic as well, that people would go ‘that’s now canon’ when they read this, that it would get over 50,000 hits, over 2,000 kudos... I really truly hope that you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing this, and I hope you’re able to imagine that they did find Jaime alive under those bricks, that they did get their happy ending on Tarth with a whole pride of blonde cubs and that things worked out the way they were supposed to.  
> I’m so happy you guys took this journey with me and I really hope you all loved it, and I hope you’ll continue reading the fluffy sequel and the angsty AU ending I have planned as well.  
> I love you all,  
> Bella (@Lariska_Prgitay)

Brienne took a deep breath as she looked at herself in the silver looking glass, slicking her short hair back with an orange wood scented product she got the last time she visited Casterly Rock. 

She wore a high collared dark blue tunic with left and right facing silver crescent moons with yellow stars nestled inside down the center of her shirt and dark blue trousers tucked into midnight black boots with silver laces. She looked every bit the woman she was born to be, the trueborn Evenstar. 

The face in the mirror that looked back at her was serious, unflinching, expression carved from stone to reflect the somberness of the occasion, but when the door to her chambers opened and Brienne caught the reflection of who walked inside, a beaming smile easily chiseled it’s way onto her face.

“You look amazing,” Jaime greeted his wife with a smile, holding a just turned two year old Galladon in his arms. The almost four year old Joanna rushed in after Jaime, wrapping her arms around her mothers long legs.  A leather doublet the color of a night sky adorned her husband with a polished to a fault silver crescent moon brooch with white gemstones pinned to his breast, handsome blue scabbard and Moonbright fashioned around his waist. 

A faint blush colored her cheeks as she reached down and picked up Joanna. “You look very handsome as well, My lord.”

“Mama, can I stay up for the feast?” Joanna asked, dressed in a gown of blue and silver silk brocade decorated with yellow moons and golden stars, pale straw colored curls in a single plait and held together with dark blue ribbons.

“Of course, my little love. But are you sure you wouldn’t rather wear something more comfortable?”

Joanna frowned up at her mother. “You get to wear what you want,” she said with an adorable looking pout.

“I know but, Joanna-.”

“I wanna be pretty tonight,” she argued, her frown growing more pronounced on her plump lips.

“You already are pretty,” Brienne told her fiercely, hoping that there was no room left for self doubt. She kissed the top of her daughters head, softening her tone tenfold. “If you really want you can go in what you have on but if you go in the water you need to change. You don’t want to ruin your dress do you?” Brienne asked, knowing her daughter would rather drink seawater then wreck one of her gowns. 

Joanna conceded to the compromise and Brienne kissed the top of her head again and set her down, taking her hand and walking over to Jaime and their son who was happily clacking the little wooden knight in crimson and blue armor against the wooden maid with short straw colored hair dressed in a rose colored gown his father bought for Galladon’s second name day.

“Come here, sweet boy,” Brienne cooed, taking Galladon in her arms. She ran a finger down the velvet crescent moon on his dark blue tunic tickling him, grinning when he laughed and watching as his deep blue eyes flecked with emerald shards lit up with joy. 

“You ready to go?” asked Jaime as he picked up Joanna. 

She took one last look in the looking glass, smoothed down Galladons already smooth yellow hair and took a deep breath. She turned back to Jaime and smiled. “Let’s go.”

The ride to the Mirror Pool was a lengthy one. Joanna was too young to do anything more than be led around the courtyard by a stable boy on a pony and Galladon was too small to begin any riding lessons at all so they had to go by litter which was considerably slow going compared to horses. But the torchlights along the usually empty road let them see through the fine rose colored silk curtains and the thin silk did nothing to keep out the glorious smells of roasting meat and cook fires nor the sound of loud talking and louder laughter from the small folk who started their feasts a bit early.

Crowds of people walking and riding to the same place Brienne and her family were heading to parted when they saw the Evenstar’s family’s litter coming up the road. Eventually they came upon the place surrounded by small folk and those of middling birth, all of them in various shades of blues and decorated with crescent moons and stars. 

The Mirror Pool was a small body of water surrounded on three sides by smooth dark blue almost black stones that reached up and up and seemed to touched the heavens. On the flat smooth surface of the tiny lake the velvety night sky was reflected, the water capturing all of the tiny white stars and then, in the center of the pool, was the brilliant blue light that gave Brienne and those that came before her the title of Evenstar.

Brienne stepped out of the litter, Galladon in her arms, doing her best to fight the blush when all the eyes that came to watch turned towards her. It hasn’t mattered that this was her fifth time doing this, her nerves still rattled her every time

Jaime put his hand on her back as he and Joanna followed her to the edge of the pool where Septon Meribald was waiting. He raised his hands and the soft whispers and low mutters of the waiting group was silenced.

“Thousands of years ago the Seven Gods raised Tarth from the sea,” the Septon told the group of people, most of whom knew the story by heart already, but who stood there silent and respectful in any case. “The Mother blessed the island with life and vegetation and fish in the seas while the Smith blessed us with the marble mines so we might have an honest labor for our men. The Warrior blessed us with the likes of The Perfect Knight Ser Galladon of Morne.” The group all chuckled when the living Galladon shouted out an excited ‘hi!’ when he heard his name spoken and Brienne kissed the top of his head, biting back her own laugh. “He also blessed is with King Arathorn the Strong, The Sun Knight Ser Eldaryn of Tarth… And the Father Himself choose His Grace Bastian Evenstar to be Tarth’s first king. 

He ruled justly and honorably, so much so that when the Stranger led him into the next life, the Father allowed him to take the form of a star that would shine down on the island and would allow him to give his light and wisdom to his ancestors for one month out of the year. We celebrate Bastian’s return tonight, with hopes that our Evenstar will reflect on her mistakes and her triumphs this past year and learn from the wisdom of those that followed her. Kneel, Brienne of Tarth; the Lady of Tarth, the Lady of Evenfall Hall and the Evenstar of Tarth.”

The tall blonde knight took a deep breath, the silence surrounding her so loud it was screaming, before she handed Galladon to Jaime before she came forward and kneeled before the Septon, bowing her head and closing her eyes.

“May you let the light of the evenstar help guide you in your duties,” his smooth soft voice told her. “May the light of our first king give you his wisdom. May you always be brave in the shadows knowing the light of the Evenstar is inside you.”

She opened her eyes and looked up at the Septon for a moment who just gave her a single nod before she stood from the ground and, sparing a look back towards her family, Brienne walked forward, shivering as the cold water crept into her boots, her trousers, and eventually her tunic. Then, when it was deep enough, she dived below the surface, keeping her eyes closed until she felt the fine white sand beneath her fingers. 

When she opened them the beauty of the hidden world would have took her breath away had she not been holding it. She was wrapped in smooth black silk and surrounded by the million white lights of the stars above. The evenstar’s bright blue light shone down directly in front of her, the glow making the water the same deep sapphire and she swore, she _swore,_ she could somehow feel its light when she brushed her hand against the sapphire glow.  But while the view itself was astonishing and wondrous to behold, the real beauty came aways deeper, in a passageway hidden at the bottom of the ebony stone that you had to shuffle a few loose rocks to be able to swim through. There it was a short swim until you came to a small shallow alcove, big enough for one person to come up for a much needed gulp of air.

The same black stone that surrounded the top of the lake made for a beautiful small table that held a thousand different smooth black stones, each inscribed with a message of sorts, a secret only to those who would rule Tarth. The top of the alcove was open and the evenstar shone down on top of it, giving just enough light to illuminate the tiny room and to make out the writings on the small smooth stones.

The stones further back on the shelf had been worn down to where the writing was illegible, some of them only had two or three words of wisdom or encouragement scratched on its surface, others had whole paragraphs about how to lead, how to rule, how to be a good Evenstar for their people. But the newest addition, the one that she found in a tiny brass holder on the wall three years ago when she discovered the hidden room and the one she held in her hand now, had only seven words, written on its surface in Selwyn’s tidy handsome script.

 _I’ll always be proud of you, Brienn_ e _._

Brienne felt her tears mingle with the water on her face as she ran her shaking hand over the white scratches on the rock. She closed her eyes and then for a moment, for a single moment, she felt that her father’s hands, as hard as stone when she did wrong but as gentle as a whisper when she needed comfort, brush away her tears.

After a long moment she put the stone back in its proper place, took a deep breath before she dove back beneath the surface, swam through the passageway and made her way back up to the surface of the pool. “Mama?” Joanna asked as Brienne emerged from the pool, keeping a respectable distance between her soaking wet mother and her gown. “Why are you crying?”

Brienne just smiled a teary smile as she accepted the fluffy blue towel from Jaime. “It’s a secret, my little love.”

Afterwards the small family made their way backdown to Evenfall where the succulent smells of delectable foods greeted them and around two hundred guests. The usual private beach was aglow with torchlight and the guests and the Evenstar and her family talked loudly and laughed louder. Servents brought around silver trays heavy with smoked trout, grilled salmon so flakey it fell apart at the lightest touch, blackened sole, baked sunfish covered in herbs, boiled crabs with butter and lemon, catfish that was fried to a crisp, and red and golden wine flowed as freely as the conversation. There were musicians and singers, jugglers and fools, dancers in scantily clad blue silks and even a fire eater all the way from across the narrow sea, performing while people danced and sang and cheered and swam in the dark sea by the torchlight. 

At one point during the evening Brienne heard a familiar voice yell something only to be met with raunchy laughter. When she turned to look she saw Aileen in her servents uniform trying, and failing, to bat away a considerably older man’s hands from slipping up her dress while she struggled not to spill the tray of food, Brienne stormed over to the two of them.

“Get away from her,” she barked at the man, in a tone that left no room for argument. 

“Oh come on, My Lady, it’s the night of the Evenstar!” the man, a minor Tarth vassal lord protested. He grinned at her as he wrapped his arm around a Aileen’s waist, yanking the reluctant young girl to his side. “The whole islands having this sort of fun tonight, you know how it goes.”

“I know that if you don’t take your hands off her and get out of my home in the next three seconds I will have my guard escort you out of here after I break said hand.”

The older man glowered at Brienne for a moment before he let Aileen go who hurried over to Brienne's side. “Boring party anyway,” he muttered as he stomped away, his voice barely heard over the loud gasps of shock and awe as the guests watched the fire eater balance himself atop a lit torch without so much of a flinch of pain.

“Thank you, My Lady,” Aileen muttered from beside her once he had left. 

“Of course. Did he hurt you?” The maid shook her head. “Good. I want you to go see the kitchens, we’re running low on the shrimp.”

“Yes, My Lady,” she muttered before heading off to the kitchens, looking lustfully at the party that she had played the part of hostess as once and, after all this time, was still bitter she wasn’t able to play the role again.

An hour or so before daylight the last guest finally stumbled out of the gates and with Joanna (who to her credit preferred to stay dry in her gown rather than get wet and change) and Galladon fast asleep several hours earlier, Brienne sat between Jaime’s legs, resting up against his chest as they looked out over the sapphire waters as the sky began to lighten. 

“That was a good party,” Jaime said, wrapping his arms around her.

“One of the better ones we had,” she agreed, taking a sip of cider. 

No one noticed she had turned away the wine nor the way she rested her hand on her stomach all night. She would tell him why on the morrow.

“This is nice,” Jaime said with a soft sigh and a lazy smile as the two of them watched the sun rise up above the horizon, the yellowish red rays reflecting off the blue waters. “You know I always knew we’d get a quiet happy ending.”

Brienne laughed. “Because our story was a relatively normal one was it? Guaranteed a happy ending?”

“Our story is a tale as old as time or a song as old as rhyme. So yes, all those stories and songs always get the happy endings.”

Brienne turned and nuzzled up against him, drowsiness beginning to settle in after a long night. “What a romantic sentiment.”

Jaime wrapped his arms around her tighter. “You bring out the poet in me, My Lady.”

As the sun finally rise, the two knights embraced one another as well as the quiet contentedness of the moment, with no great proclamations of love, no grand final kisses, no question mark at the end of the page…

They had the rest of their lives together, they had their children, they had the two cubs growing inside her, and most importantly, they had each other. Until the day their ashes were spread on their island decades from now after peaceful deaths in bed when they were old and grey but no less in love and within days of each other before they continued their song as old as rhyme in the heavens, they would have each other.

For now, they were simply content to cuddle in each other’s arms on their little strip of beach in the comfortable silence of the dawn, and know that whatever came after, they would face it together.

**The End**


End file.
